


But Babe I Need the Thrill

by boopinbabbit



Series: Nuclear Heart [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Deaf Character, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Sign Language, Size Difference, Slow Burn, just a whole lot of awkward all around, like seriously they're both so stupid i love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boopinbabbit/pseuds/boopinbabbit
Summary: The first time Maccready meets Strong is an unmitigated disaster. Nobody had informed him of their newest inhabitant’s presence, so when he stumbles out of bed one morning to see a super mutant lumbering around the settlement Maccready does what anyone else would do (and, in fact, what more than a few people had done) and pulls a gun on him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually the side-piece from a much bigger work that I have not yet posted. It's not necessary to enjoy this fic, but some things may seem a little strange or weirdly out of place without the full story behind them so just a heads up.

The first time Maccready meets Strong is an unmitigated disaster. Nobody had informed him of their newest inhabitant’s presence, so when he stumbles out of bed one morning to see a super mutant lumbering around the settlement Maccready does what anyone else would do (and, in fact, what more than a few people had done) and pulls a gun on him. Thankfully Nora manages to intervene before things get too hairy, but not before both parties require a stimpack to carry on with the rest of their day.

Nora tells him, arms waving around frantically as Strong stares at her face with intense concentration, that the super mutant comes in peace. He needs her help with something, and she agreed to assist him. Business as usual for his bleeding heart of a boss.

“<But this is crazy, even for you,>” he signs, hands still fumbling over a language he has known since childhood but seldom had to actually use before his son was born. “<How did you even find him?>”

She gestures towards her Pipboy then puts her fists together with her elbows horizontal.

“<What?>”

“<Broadcast,>” she spells out slowly. “<Someone asking for help.> “ Nora then mimes writing with the letter P. “<Piper heard it. Wanted to check it out.>”

“<Of course she did>,” Maccready sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Out the corner of his eye he watches Strong finally lose interest in a conversation he clearly can’t follow and lumber off. Macready wonders idly if a super mutant could even learn sign language with such huge hands. How had Nora been communicating with him all this time? His musings are put aside though as a more pressing thought occurs to him. “<Wait! Was this the same->” he stumbles over the sign for broadcast before changing it to, “<-radio I said was a trap?>”

Nora hesitates for a damning moment before nodding sheepishly, and Maccready drops his face into his hands. But not before signing that he had told her so.

\-------------

The second time Maccready “meets” Strong he almost blows the guy’s head off. Again. This time on accident. It’s hard to tell in the middle of a firefight who’s for and against you, and Macready has never had to worry about that distinction in regards to super mutants. The only thing that saves Strong’s life is a half-second flinch to the side, allowing Maccready’s bullet to pass by him harmlessly and hit the monster behind him instead. Strong doesn’t even notice, and Maccready vows to hook Nora’s new “buddy” up with a face tattoo or flowery hat. Something to keep the boss from firing him for accidentally killing her newest charity case.

He really can’t afford to lose this gig. Neither can Strong apparently, if the way he tries to make nice with the other settlers is any indication. Maccready can’t think of any other reason why a super mutant would willingly pull chore duty or make time to try and learn a language he wasn’t suited towards (Maccready had been right about his hands being a problem) with only minimal complaining. Hell, if anything, Strong seems more willing to help than most of the human settlers. Definitely more than Maccready himself who still can’t wrap his head around how anyone can live for more than twenty years of their life without learning which end of a gun to not point at themselves.

Strong tells anyone who will listen about his search to find “The Milk of Human Kindness“. Maccready has no idea what that could even begin to mean, but he’s pretty sure it’s not whatever Strong has in mind. He asks the super mutant about it over a couple shots of something that tastes as bad as it smells and is treated to a story about some guy and his wife killing a king over some kind of milk that would make them stronger (a radical paraphrasing as he is later informed by Deacon). Strong makes no bones about his reason for wanting it -so he can use it’s power to eradicate all humans-, and Maccready can’t help but respect him all the more for it.

Somehow, it’s more surprising to find that respect being returned.

“This human good fighter,” he hears Strong informing Nora, slowly enunciating his words so that she can follow along. “Almost as good as Strong.”

“Thanks, Strong,” Maccready replies, signing along for the boss‘s benefit. “Coming from someone like you, that’s a pretty big compliment.”

Neither of them get the pun, and Maccready sighs over the waste.  
  
\----------

Apparently, super mutants like to cheat at cards.

Maccready discovers this at ass o’clock pm halfway down a bottle and still unable to make his brain stop goading him long enough to let him get some sleep. Strong is sitting beside him, staring at the cards in his hands like they’ve personally offended him. Across the fire pit, Deacon is looking a little too smug for a man wearing sunglasses after dark. How he can even see to play is almost as mysterious as the man himself, though the way he leans back into Nora’s arms as she wraps them around his shoulders isn’t.

Taking another long pull from the bottle in his hand, Maccready quickly turns his attention away just in time to catch Strong swiping another card off the top of the deck. There is no way nobody else noticed that, but a glance in Deacon’s direction finds him caught up in conversation with the boss. Maccready swivels his head back around to give Strong an incredulous look, only to find him staring back with an approximation of Deacon’s earlier smugness. The sniper chuckles helplessly into his drink, missing the look of satisfaction that crosses Strong’s face.

But neither of them miss Deacon’s baffled amusement when he loses. Nora teaches them something called a fist bump, and Strong happily exchanges one with both her and Maccready while Deacon jokingly whines about being set up in the background.

\-------

Sometimes Strong gives him food. The first couple times it happens, Maccready worries he is being fattened up for the slaughter. Not an unreasonable assumption when you grew up where he did. Even now, the thought is still there, lurking in the back of his head wearing a pair of suspicious-looking sunglasses and smirking at him.

No, wait. That’s just Deacon, who is currently trying to get Strong to join his book club. The super mutant isn’t having any of it, but Maccready is pretty sure Deacon could coax water from stone if he tried hard enough. It’s part of why he’s never trusted the man as far as he could throw him. Nobody achieves that level of charisma without having a few skeletons in their closet, and Deacon has more than most.

“Come on,” he wheedles, stretching his hands out in a beckoning gesture. He never used to be so expressive before Nora, and Maccready wonders if Deacon has noticed the change or if it’s all just another act to get people to like him. “I know you like Shakespeare right? I’ve heard you talking about him. Wouldn’t you like to hear more?”

“Bah, puny human sound like Wrecks,” Strong grunts, reaching into the fire to grab out a skewer of meat he’d thrown in earlier. “Strong just want milk. Books no help.”

“Ah but see, they could! Knowledge is power, my man. And the best place to get it is with a good book.”

Maccready snorts. “You just want someone to read trashy romance novels with,” he says, accepting the food now being shoved into his hands. It’s still hot and he nearly drops it when it burns his fingers but manages to catch it before it hits the ground. Deacon holds out a plate, and Maccready thankfully drops the meat onto it.

“I’ll have you know romance doesn’t get trashier than the bard himself. I mean, who doesn’t want to read about teenagers committing dual suicide because their parents wouldn’t let them bone? Talk about melodrama.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what actually happened,” Maccready mutters, glancing over at Strong who shrugs. Off to the side, Deacon watches their exchange with a shrewd eye.

‘I kid you not, kid,” he says, sunglasses catching the light as he tilts his head back with a grin at Maccready‘s resulting scowl. “Six people dead over a stupid feud that ended because a couple of teenagers couldn’t keep it in their pants long enough to stick to the original plan. Gotta love the classics.”

“Okay, now I know that you’re making this sh- stuff up.”

“Swear on my honor as a girl scout.”

Maccready thinks about Lucy’s tattered green dress and sash covered in push-pin badges. She’d spent hours looking up all their meanings in the little booklet she’d uncovered from the depths of their small library and trying to live up to a code that nobody but her could be bothered with anymore. His appetite is long gone, but Strong is staring at him expectantly so Maccready forces himself to push back the memories and eat. Deacon continues to watch him closely, like he knows he said something wrong but isn‘t sure if he should care, and Maccready has the sudden irrational urge to punch the man square in the face.

“You were never a scout or I’m queen of the mirelurks,” he says instead.

\------------

It’s no secret to anyone that the Minutemen are struggling. The Quincy Massacre is still an open wound in the eyes of the Commonwealth, and bouncing back from it has been no easy feat with the threat of something like a second occurrence hanging over everyone’s heads. It has only been through the sheer dogged determination of people like Preston Garvey that the once great faction has been kept from falling into complete obscurity.

No man is an island though, which is where Nora comes in. Sweet, charming, charismatic Nora, a public defender -even in her old life- willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. The General of the Minutemen wears her new position and blue coat like they were tailor-made for her personally. She is a woman out of time, the sole survivor of her own personal apocalypse, and she is here to Get Shit Done.

For all his shit-talking, Maccready really does admire them both. The Minutemen are a great cause and with good people like Preston and Nora at the helm it is shaping up to have a real and lasting impact on the world as they know it.

He just wishes they would stop trying to involve him in it.

“<A few of the settlements up North need to be checked in on,>“ Nora tells him, eyes pleading. “<I would do it myself, but it will be weeks before I’m free and I’m concerned about what could happen between now and then.>“

She phrases it like a request but Maccready knows that she will be upset if he turns her down. Of course, the boss won’t say anything, but he’ll know. He always knows. Nora’s disappointment is like a weapon wielded with a swift accuracy capable of making you feel lower than the lowest of scum. It’s quick, its deadly, and Maccready is terrified of being the cause of it.

“<You won’t be going alone,>“ she rushes to throw in. “<Strong volunteered to go if you went.>“

“<Of course he did,>“ Maccready grumbles, turning to glare in the direction of their big green friend. “<Well I guess there’s no way out of it.>“

Nora beams at him gratefully, and Maccready resigns himself to his new fate. Those settlers aren’t going to know what hit them. Maybe literally. For all his desire to share with his new leader’s community, Strong still has a bad habit of terrorizing its people. He’s loud and brash, with no qualms about property damage or snacking on his victims right in plain view of horrified settlers. Nobody wants to make direct contact with the super mutant and many (Maccready himself included) would probably just shoot him on sight without prior warning of his presence beforehand.

Maccready wonders if anyone warns them about him. Probably too focused on the chaos that follows Strong’s every waking step to notice the much smaller mercenary robbing them blind in the background. Which is good, because they aren’t getting paid for these literally thankless jobs otherwise.

And besides, if they care about their stuff so much they shouldn’t just leave it lying around.

\---------

“It’s your fault that we’re here, so I don’ know why you’re complaining,” Maccready says, picking up yet another box of nails to sift through idly before setting it back down. Several feet away, Strong is attempting to hammer a wall together with little success. The ground around them is littered with bent nails and bits of wood and broken plaster.

“Strong hate building,” Strong grumbles. “Boring work.”

“I told you it would be, but you were all-” Maccready sits up, lowering his voice into a grumbling mockery of his friend’s, “-‘Strong want help settlers. Maccready come too because misery love company‘.”

“Don’t put words in Strong’s mouth.”

“I could put other things in your mouth.” He had…not meant that to sound as suggestive as it did, but other than a mild glare Strong doesn’t seem to have noticed his slip-up. The settler that was tasked with baby-sitting them though is looking more uncomfortable with each passing moment. Maccready would almost feel bad for the man if he were making any moves to get off his ass and help instead of leaving them to do all the menial labor.

“Bah! Puny gunner one who talk too much,” Strong tells him, proving that he had in fact completely missed out on the accidental double-meaning. “Strong find nice gag for shutting you up.”

Or…maybe he hadn’t?

“Oh, is that a promise?” Maccready fires back, throwing one of the nails in his hand like a badly dented dart at the back of Strong’s head to hide his suddenly flustered countenance. Out the corner of his eye he sees the settler turn a sickly shade of green before hurriedly excusing himself. So, cool, nobody missed that. Wonderful. Just as Maccready is contemplating finding a body of water to drown himself in his thoughts are interrupted by the sudden breeze ruffling through his hair.

“Settler gone. We find something else to do now,” Strong tells him, settling Maccready’s pilfered hat onto his head and wandering off, leaving the human no choice but to chase after him to try and get it back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the longest time, Strong has disliked sparring practice. The human settlers are all too slow, to weak, too prone to pissing themselves when the super mutant so much as breathes in their direction. Only a handful of people have ever been willing to take him on and of those people fewer have managed to catch and hold his interest as completely Maccready seems to be able to do.

Combat training for the Minutemen mainly consists of teaching skittish and paranoid settlers how _not_ to shoot themselves in the foot or accidentally murder their own teammates. The number of grown-ass adults in the Commonwealth who don’t know the safety switch from their own ass is enough to make Maccready just want to give up and head back to the Capitol. At least there people know to leave their thumb outside their fist when throwing a punch.

“But that’s how my dad taught me,” the latest in too long of a line of would-be Minutemen tells Maccready, cradling their probably broken thumb in their other hand tearfully.

“Yeah well your dad is a friggin’ idiot,” Maccready informs him with little sympathy. He’d used up the last of his patience trying to teach Jordie Watkins how to not drop his gun like a damn hot potato every time he fired it.

Off to the side, he sees Cait and Marcy Long duking it out and heads over to watch that instead. Sparring has become a normal past-time in Sanctuary that quickly spread to the other settlements when it finally started to sink in that part of joining a militia faction is actually having to know how to fight sometimes. When Cait had rolled into town like a tornado of red hair and anger issues a month ago the former tournament fighter nearly had an apoplectic fit upon realizing that only two people in the entire settlement could take her in a fight. Combat training soon became “Get Your Ass Kicked Around By Cait” training until two became ten and then eventually more.

Maccready is pretty sure Preston is going to propose marriage any day now. The pure awe on his face as he watches Cait execute a brilliant choke-hold and Marcy break out of it just like the redhead had taught her readily apparent to anyone with a working set of eyes. He looks like a man who has found religion, and honestly Maccready can’t blame him. Cait is an amazing woman.

So engrossed is he in watching the fight before him that Maccready doesn’t notice anyone creeping up behind him until they are reaching out to grab his shoulder. Thinking it's Jordie back for round two, Maccready reaches up and back, grabbing the offending arm and twisting around to throw his would-be assailant over his hip and to the ground. He has a moment to register that his attacker is a bit heavier than expected before realizing that he had just accidentally flipped Strong.

“Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that!” He complains, dropping Strong’s arm with an annoyed huff. To his left, he can see Preston giving them both an incredulous look and even the girls have cut their sparring session short to stare at him. “What?”

“How did you _do_ that?” Preston asked, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up his forehead the longer Maccready continues to stare at him nonplussed. It's not that rare a skill. They both back up hurriedly as Strong shoves himself roughly to his feet before them, a strange glint in his eye as he gets up in Maccready’s face.

For the longest time, Strong has disliked sparring practice. The human settlers are all too slow, to weak, too prone to pissing themselves when the super mutant so much as breathes in their direction. Only a handful of people have ever been willing to take him on and of those people fewer have managed to catch and hold his interest as completely Maccready seems to be able to do.

“Puny human stronger than looks,” he says, giving Maccready an almost impressed once-over that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. “Strong approve. Fight now.”

He then grabs Maccready by the arm and begins pulling him along. Cait calls out jeering encouragement and Maccready flips her off before preparing himself to get his ass kicked around by Strong for the rest of the afternoon.

\---------

When it comes to fighting, Nora needs all the practice she can get. What she lacks in actual skill, she makes up for in enthusiasm and the fact of not being able to hear has made her extra mindful of her surroundings. Whenever they go out on missions together, she prefers to sneak around as much as possible and avoid direct confrontation, which Maccready is more than okay with.

When they do end up in a fight, however, she tends to rush in screaming like a lunatic and swinging that goddamn baseball bat of hers around with enough force to take a raider’s head off. The woman has no finesse whatsoever and honestly Maccready is pretty sure the only reason she even took up a melee weapon to begin with is because she cannot aim a gun to save her life. Literally. How she has managed to not die yet is a complete mystery to everyone around her.

Deacon worships the ground she walks on. “One big beautiful distraction,” he calls her, with the look of a person who hasn’t realized just how hard they’ve fallen. Maccready watches the two of them circle each other like particularly dense love-struck birds and makes bets with Hancock on whether or not they’ll ever get their shit together enough to do anything about it.

Past experience tells him that Deacon is too chicken-shit to be that real with anyone (even himself), but somehow Maccready still finds himself rooting for the idiot.

Even when he won’t shut up about the stupid codenames.

“For the last time, I’m not joining your stupid not-so-secret secret club,” Maccready whisper-shouts, one eye on Nora as she creeps farther ahead through the streets. Every few steps she glances down at her Pipboy, scrolling through various screens checking for hostiles or the weather or whatever it is vault dwellers use those things for. “So cut it out.”

“Not an option, my dude. You’ve seen too much.” Sunlight reflects off the curly blonde bob Deacon is sporting today and Maccready mentally fights to readjust their pronouns in his head. The last time he’d asked, Deacon had just sort of shrugged and said they didn’t really give a fuck. Had seemed surprised anyone would even bother to ask but also more pleased when being referred to neutrally, so Maccready has been trying to stick with that. It’s a work in progress but not the first time he’s been down this road.

“Why can’t I just _not_ have a codename? It’s not like anyone knows who I am anyways.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many lists _you’re_ on, pal.” For a moment, Deacon looks almost contrite, face down-turned in a way that Maccready has come to recognize as guilt. Just like any other visible emotion though, its there and gone in less than the time it takes to blink and Deacon is once more a vaguely amused blank slate. “Seriously though, if you don’t choose something I’m gonna have to do it for you. How do you feel about Charmer? I think it suits you nicely.”

Charmer does not, and has never suited Maccready nicely in any way shape or form. He feels like Deacon has known him long enough to realize this by now.

“You know what. Sure, whatever. I literally do not care what any of your people call me, because I am not. Joining. The. _Freaking_. Railroad.”

\---------

For the first month after Nora hires him, Maccready is constantly busy. The two of them run jobs for everyone from Hancock to the Bobrov brothers and when they aren’t working, Maccready still can’t bring himself to relax. This is the first truly steady source of caps he’s had since his years with the Gunners and he doesn’t want to fuck it up by seeming un-useful. All he has to do is keep some vault dweller from getting herself killed while running around the Commonwealth like a deranged superhero. Easy money (except not because Nora clearly has some sort of death wish).

Things calm down after Winlock and Barnes. Maccready never figured out why his old commanders had it out for him so badly, but taking out their camp is enough to get the Gunners off his back for good so it had to have been something stupidly personal. Whatever the reason though, they’re gone now and Maccready is free to take jobs again without worrying about the target on his back.

Except, he doesn’t actually need to. Working for Nora gives him more than enough income to keep Duncan in comfort, and once they start to get to know each other better he finds himself able to relax a little more in her company. Maccready would even hesitate to call them friends of a sort.

Nora introduces him to the concept of “paid vacation”, which apparently means that even when she dumps him off at her homestead he still gets paid even though he….isn’t actually doing anything.

The first time it happens, Maccready doesn’t know what to do with himself. He throws himself into gardening and blows through an entire pack of cigarettes a day trying not to have an anxiety attack all over the people of Sanctuary. When Nora returns nearly a week later, he all but begs her to take him back out on the road with her and things are okay again until the next time she drops him off to head out with someone else.

The concept of free time is not new to Maccready, he’s had too much of it during his time in the Commonwealth. Back in Goodneighbor, his solution was always to either drink himself into a coma or try and find someone willing to pay for sex. Neither of these are liable to go over well in a place like Sanctuary (well…the sex one might. Who knows. He doesn’t really want to go back to that if he doesn’t have to though…).

Things become a little easier when Hancock rolls into town oozing enough charisma and bad ideas to keep everyone around him more than entertained. Maccready never had much to do with the mayor back when he was living in his city outside of various jobs and a few back alley meetings, but he’s always really liked the guy. They get on pretty well.

Cait is another welcome distraction. Always down to fight or drink or shoot random shit out of junk cannons at raiders until they can’t stand from laughing so hard. Anytime spent in her company is sure to be eventful and Maccready enjoys not having to over-think his actions constantly.

When he and Strong become friends, Maccready expects more of the same. The super mutant is loudly aggressive and hates not having something to do just as much as Maccready does. He also enjoys reading or, more often, being read to since he has difficulty with it himself. In a surprising turn of events, Maccready finds himself able to quietly relax back into another old past-time that he hasn’t really had opportunity for lately when he introduces Strong to comics.

“See,” he says, holding open the pages so that Strong can get a better look at them. “Less words makes them easier. The pictures also help to give context when you don’t understand something.”

“Context?” Strong wonders, tracing over the image of Grognak taking on Medusa with a curious frown.

“Um….meaning. Better meaning.”

Strong nods and carefully tugs the comic out of Maccready’s hands to hold it closer to his own face. After a few moments, he flips the page and lets out a hearty laugh at whatever he finds there. Maccready feels a grin stretch across his face as he leaves him to it, pulling another issue over to begin reading himself.

It’s better than drinking himself blind in Goodneighbor by far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Winlock and Barnes are off his back for good, he can focus his attention back on his original goal for returning to the Commonwealth in the first place. Breaking into Med-Tec wasn’t easy the first couple times he tried on his own, too many ferals roaming around. It was a lucky fluke that he’d even been able to figure out any of the passcodes into the research labs before he’d been nearly overcome by them the last time. No, he needed help.

Having a room to himself is a luxury that Maccready cannot get used to. Back in Lamplight all the kids slept where they landed more or less, all curled up together in tiny piles of knees and elbows to the face. With the Gunners he was usually crammed into a small room with at least ten other people. He and Lucy had shared a small homestead with three other families, and the house he’d lived in for a short time after her death was just as crowded (if not worse with three of it’s occupants being literal giants).

When Nora showed him into his room nearly two months ago, Maccready had thought there must be a mistake. The room could easily fit four people, so why was there only one bed? He wasn’t opposed to sharing it, per say, but not so much with anyone he had just met in this strange settlement (and not for more than a few nights at most). Maybe he could find a spare bedroll somewhere?

“<It’s your room,>” Nora told him when he asked, a strange look crossing her face. “<Do what you want with it, I guess?>”

He uses it to store food and ammo, mostly. Anything that isn’t bolted down ends up in Maccready’s room eventually. Nora gets onto him about it sometimes, makes him give the stuff back to the community. She never actually tells him to stop though, and sometimes Maccready catches her also swiping things off tables and out of lock boxes when she thinks nobody is looking. It gives him a little thrill every time he sees her doing it.  
  
Strong _hates_ it. The lock-picking, the stealing, the hoarding, you name it. The first time he ducks into Maccready’s room to rouse him up for sparring the two of them spend a good hour arguing about sharing and how the human needs to be better at it. They wake up half the settlement, and Marcy puts the fear of God in them both for disturbing her. The whole thing is ridiculous, and Strong doesn’t talk to him for nearly a week afterward which bothers Maccready more than he cares to admit.

So does sleeping alone. The room is too empty, too quiet, too dark. Cramping it up with stuff until everywhere but the bed is standing room only helps a little. More often than not, Maccready finds himself wandering the settlement at night, unable to sleep. Sometimes Nora joins him, dark circles and fresh tear tracks under her eyes. Other times it’s Preston who might be the only human in the settlement that gets less sleep than Maccready himself. The two of them form a tentative bond out of survivor’s guilt, insomnia, and not talking about the reasons behind it.

Most of the time though, it's Strong. At any given point of the night, the super mutant can be found stalking around the settlement, grumbling to himself about the lack of activity or chasing after the cats. He’s not allowed to eat them, or any of the other animals that Nora refers to as “pets”, but Strong still finds enjoyment in acting like he’s going to anyways. Sometimes he plays the same game with the kids of various settlements they visit, and Maccready imagines Duncan among them. Healthy and active just like any other child, playing tag with a lumbering giant and throwing sticks around for Dogmeat to carry back.

“Soon,” he promises himself. He will try again soon. Now that Winlock and Barnes are off his back for good, he can focus his attention back on his original goal for returning to the Commonwealth in the first place. Breaking into Med-Tec wasn’t easy the first couple times he tried on his own, too many ferals roaming around. It was a lucky fluke that he’d even been able to figure out any of the passcodes into the research labs before he’d been nearly overcome by them the last time. No, he needed help.

Hancock would probably do it if Macready could work up the nerve to ask. The mayor took his whole “for the people” spiel very seriously and was always willing to throw down for the residents of Good Neighbor, and even total strangers, when push came to shove. That’s how he’d wound up trailing after Nora, after all. For all his violent and dangerous demeanor Hancock was a good man who lived to help others, but he was also a busy man. Between trying to keep a whole city running and all the things he and Nora got up too, Hancock didn’t have time to deal with Maccready’s problems on top of everything else.

The same could be said for Nora. It’s bad enough that he’d dragged her into his mess with the Gunners, but asking her to trek halfway across the Commonwealth on a wild goose chase for a child he hasn’t even been willing to tell her about yet would be asking too much out of someone who is paying him to be her bodyguard not spill his entire life‘s story. He can’t afford to ask for anything more.

Cait might do it just for the thrill of the fight, but he can’t rely on her to actually watch his back during it. Daisy offered to help him before, but she hasn’t left her shop in decades, and Maccready couldn’t live with himself if something were to happen to another person he cares about because he dragged them too far out of their comfort zone. There was a time when he might’ve felt comfortable asking Deacon, but that was before. Maccready knows better now.

It doesn’t occur to him to ask Strong for help. After all, what use would a super mutant have for humans and their problems? Sure he likes to share food and smash intruders, but by his own admission Strong is only here until he finds a better way to murder them all. Not exactly altruism at its finest.

Not that Maccready has room to talk. After all, he’s only here because he’s getting paid to be.

Except, he tried giving the money back, didn’t he? And Strong doesn’t really need Nora’s help to find his milk. So, why are either of them even still here? Nora has already done so much for Maccready: a steady income, protection, a space to call his own. How could he ask for more?

But he needs to. For Duncan. This will be the last time, he promises himself. One more thing and then he’ll be out of the boss’s hair. He’ll ask her tomorrow.

\----------

Nora is already agreeing before he can even get the full story out, and Maccready almost starts crying right then and there. The only thing stopping him is Strong’s presence, the super mutant having lumbered over to stand beside them mid-conversation. He’s watching their hands move intensely, but Maccready isn’t sure how much he’s actually getting out of the whole thing until Strong suddenly waves a hand out to get Nora’s attention like he’s seen other people do.

“Strong go too,” he tells them. “Help smash ghouls. Fun.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Maccready tells him, swiping at his eyes shakily. “<And thank you, boss.>” He signs to Nora who just shakes her head at him with a misty look in her eyes.

“<What are friends for, right?>” She asks, and Maccready can’t help but agree.

\---------

It goes better with three people instead of one. Nora hacks the terminals while Maccready watches her back and Strong runs around smashing anything that even looks like it might think about moving. It keeps the him distracted enough to not bitch and moan every time Nora so much as looks at a line of code, but Maccready worries about Strong accidentally destroying the wrong thing. The most important thing.

Whatever that thing actually is. Maccready isn’t sure what exactly he’s looking for or if he’ll recognize it when he sees it. The instructions on how to even find the research facility had been vague at best and the contents within even more unclear. All he knew was that he was looking for something called “Prevent”. What that was or which room it might be located in were a complete mystery. What was he going to do if it ended up not even being here at all? How would he know? What if-

A gentle touch against his arm startles Maccready so much that he only just manages to catch himself before he can put a bullet through Nora’s head. She doesn’t even glance at the gun in her face, looking around it to give him a concerned look.

“<We’ll find it,>”she assures him. “<And if we don’t then we‘ll keep searching until we do.>”

The idea of setting aside his weapon to respond is unthinkable right now, so he can only nod. She has the password, Strong has the ferals, all they need now is to finish this and pray for the best. Or at least, not the worst. He can’t think about that right now, because if they don’t find the cure, if all of this was for nothing-

Maccready can’t think about that right now. They have a job to do.

\---------

By some miracle, the cure is there, sitting untouched on the only desk they hadn’t managed to overturn or outright destroy during the chaos that was the glowing one and its zombie entourage. Maccready does cry then, sinking down to the floor cradling the small vial in his shaking hands. Nora kneels down to rub at his back until he can finally breathe against his relief, and he passes over the cure for her to hold onto until he calms down.

Off to the side, Strong lingers looking uncomfortable in the face of human emotions, though he does offer Maccready a hard pat on the shoulder on their way out that is oddly comforting.

The walk to Good Neighbor is one of the most nerve-wracking in Maccready’s life, with him stopping every few moments to make sure that the cure still exists. Nora offers to let him carry it more than a few times, but Maccready always refuses. He’s pretty sure he’s got to be irritating her by now, but honestly, Maccready trusts her more with it than he does himself at this point.

Hell, right now he’d trust Strong more than he trusts himself. The super mutant keeps giving him weirdly concerned looks that Maccready isn’t sure what to do with. The whole thing is putting his already frayed nerves further on edge and the sooner they get to Good Neighbor the sooner Maccready can hand the cure off to Daisy before going off to find a semi-private corner to quietly have an anxiety attack in.

\---------

“Maccready!” Daisy calls out to him when they walk into her shop. “Haven’t seen you in awhile. Not been avoiding me have you?”

Maccready gives her a shaky grin moving to lean against the counter. “Now how could I stay away from someone as cute as you, Daisy?” He wonders. She lets out a guffawing laugh and his smile becomes more sincere from hearing it.

“Kid, you’re a lousy liar, but we’ll just pretend I don’t know it.” Her attention turns to the two figures in the doorway, eyes widening in shock at the sight of Strong before narrowing suspiciously. Her gaze then falls to Nora and the look becomes one of delight. “Well hello there again, missy. You here with this one?” She waves a hand towards Maccready, and Nora glances down at her Pipboy before nodding her agreement. “Well then what can I help you folks with?”

Maccready tells her about finding the cure, almost tripping over his words in his rush to get it all out. Daisy expresses delight just like he knew she would and offers him a spot on her friend’s caravan as soon as it comes through. They’re speaking aloud, too fast for Nora to follow -not that the boss is trying, choosing to give them a moment of privacy rather than pry- but Maccready still finds himself glancing back at her before he answers.

Catching his gaze she lifts her hands in a questioning gesture but he doesn’t know how to respond. He turns to Strong, who is watching the people of Good Neighbor pretend not to watch them. It’s been a long time since anyone has gone out on a limb like this for him without expecting anything in return. He almost wishes they did, Maccready doesn’t like to be in anyone’s debt.

He’ll just have to offer himself instead he guesses.

“No,” he says, turning back to Daisy who is now eyeing him with a shrewd but knowing look. “I’ve still got unfinished business here before I can go back. Can you help me get the cure into Duncan’s hands?”

“Of course, Maccready,” she replies like he’s stupid to even be asking her that. Maybe he is. “After all you’ve done to save my behind it’s the least I can do. I’ll get that cure to Duncan, you can trust me.”

“I do,” he tells her, reaching out tentatively to pat Daisy’s hand. She turns it over and grasps his with a fond smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Not a problem kid. And hey,” she pauses, realizing that Nora isn‘t looking at her, and moves around the counter to tap her on the shoulder in order to get the vault dweller’s attention. “Hey, could you do me another favor?” She asks slowly, making sure that Nora can keep up and waiting for her nod to continue. “Take care of Maccready for me, will you? He’s one of the good ones.”

Maccready hides his now red face in his hands with a low groan, missing Nora’s response completely. Though its hard to miss Strong’s grumbling reply of, “Human safe with Leader and Strong. As humans say: got your back.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody would ever accuse Maccready of being a paragon for good decision-making skills. So when he finds himself crawling into Strong’s lap after a few rounds of absinthe mixed with radsorpion venom, he’s pretty sure nobody would be too surprised.

Strong is a dirty kill-stealer and Maccready kind of hates him for it. Especially in moments like these when the super mutant chooses to bodily lift him out of the way in order to pulverize the raider that Maccready had totally been just about to get. Really. He had this in hand and would have seen the man barreling towards him with all the finesse of a drunken radstag eventually.

Hidden behind Strong’s back, Maccready takes a moment to breathe through the anxiety of a near brush with death (you’d think he’d be used to this by now) before head-shotting a guy about to launch a frag-mine at them.

Half a second later, Maccready finds himself being grabbed up yet again as Strong charges through the remaining raiders like dominoes just waiting to be knocked down. It’s easier to see from his new vantage point, so the sniper ignores the indignity of being carried around like a sack of potatoes and pulls himself farther up onto Strong’s shoulders.

“Please don’t drop me,” he yells down at Strong, before taking aim at what’s left of their attackers.

“Don’t fall,” Strong taunts back, but he hunches forward slightly to give the human better balance.

\---------

Nobody would ever accuse Maccready of being a paragon for good decision-making skills. So when he finds himself crawling into Strong’s lap after a few rounds of absinthe mixed with radsorpion venom, he’s pretty sure nobody would be too surprised.

“What human want?” Strong grouses, even as his hands come up to steady the human, and Maccready takes this as invitation to scoot himself even further into Strong’s personal space. Somewhere in the distance, he swears he can hear Cait cackling, but ignores it in favor of stretching up to wrap his arms around Strong’s shoulders as best he can.

“He-ey there, big guy,” Maccready slurs, nearly laughing out loud at the irritated look his friend is giving him. “What’s up?”

Strong heaves a sigh, hands wrapping around the human’s waist to keep him from moving any closer. “Strong ask first.”

“Yeah, well, I asked second,” Maccready replies, tapping his fingers idly against the back of Strong’s neck. “But ok. Ok. I’m-” he pauses, trailing his hands down to rest against to Strong‘s chest with a confused look. “Uh…. Wow. You are really big, huh?”

The exasperated look on Strong’s face screams ‘no shit, idiot’ and Maccready cracks up, pitching forward to bury his face into his friend’s collar. He lays there for a moment trying to get his breath back as the world threatens to spin out of control around him. What was he doing? He can’t remember with everything so fuzzy feeling.

A large hand runs up and down his side and Maccready arches his back into the feel of it, heat pooling in his gut as he lets out a pleased hum. A moment later he realizes just what he is doing and sits up fast, nearly braining himself on Strong’s chin in the process, before scrambling back off the super mutant’s lap to the ground.

“Whoa! Whoa! Shit! Uh…I’m-” he teeters for a moment, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as the world lurches around him distressingly. “Ugh. Ow. I think I’m gonna-” he opens his eyes to see Strong watching him with a non-plussed look. “I’m not drunk enough for this,” he decides, shoving himself back to his feet with a grimace

“Strong think too drunk,” he hears Strong mutter behind him as he stumbles off to find something to hopefully drown himself in.

\---------

“Y’re like a wheelhouse of murder,” Cait tells him later, half-sprawled across Maccready’s lap as they pass a bottle of pipe cleaner cleverly disguised as alcohol back and forth. “’S beautiful t’ watch really. Him smashin’ and you up on his shoulder’s shootin’ like some sort of-”

She pauses to take a drink and nearly spills half of it down her cheek, losing track of what she had been saying. Maccready starts laughing and she threatens to gut punch him with her free hand. The bottle disappears while they are distracted and Cait complains loudly when she realizes.

“’Ey! Was drinking that!” She tells Preston who just stares down at them both with a bemused look before walking away. Probably just wanted the liquor for himself. Jerk.

“<Your liver is thinking about filing for divorce,>“ Nora says. “<Time to bring the spark back into the relationship.>”

“What the hell are you yappin’ ‘bout?” Cait demands, sitting up to take Nora’s laughing face in her hands. “You know I don’t understand that hand-speaking shite. Maccready tell me what she said.”

“She says your liver is leaving you for another woman,” he dutifully informs her, nearly breathless with laughter. “Unless you get your shit together.”

Cait stands up, nearly stumbling right over before Nora catches her. Her hands are still on the other woman’s face, and Cait uses them to smush her cheeks together in mock anger.

“I’m not takin’ relationship advice from you of all people!” She loudly informs Nora, who is still laughing too hard to follow the conversation. “Way you ‘n Deacon dance around each other like a couple o’ skittish colts! I‘d never get laid again!”

Nora throws Maccready a confused look and he quickly waves her off. No way is he translating that one out. Cait catches his action and whirls around, dropping back down to straddle Maccready’s lap.

“Speaking of you and Strong,” she continues on, like they hadn’t already derailed that particular conversation topic. “Next time you two decide to fuck, warn a girl, huh? I only barely made myself scarce in time earlier.”

Maccready’s face flares up as he quickly shoves the now cackling Cait from his lap. Nora stares between the two of them with the irritated look of someone who knows they are being deliberately excluded from the conversation, but there is absolutely no way Maccready is repeating any of this to her. Drunk, sober, or otherwise.

They hadn’t even done anything. Not that it was any of Cait’s business. Or that Maccready even wanted to. Or that Strong would-

He quickly shook the thought off. Not going there. He was not going there.

\---------

Except now he can’t stop thinking about it.

What would that even be like, he wonders. Painful most likely. Maccready made his peace long ago with always being the smaller person in any relationship he entered (even Lucy had been a whole inch taller than him), but Strong is _huge_. And if that is proportionate to…other things…then there is no way in hell he stands a chance.

Assuming Strong even has a dick or whatever. Hell, super mutants could be eunuchs for all Maccready knows. The only time he’d been brave enough to ask he’d been teased mercilessly for weeks and Fawkes couldn't look him in the eye for longer. But super mutants used to be humans (for the most part), so unless it got burned off in the process….

“Why are you even thinking about this?” he demands of himself, following Nora through an abandoned factory they’d just cleared of ferals for the second time. “It’s not like he’d even go for it if you did ask. And what would you even say? Hey, Strong! Buddy, pal! Wanna fuck? …Frick? No, that‘s still just as bad…”

Nora lets out a croaking laugh and for a heart-stopping second Maccready wonders if she heard what he said before remembering that the boss is deaf. And also on the other side of the room staring down at a pair of teddy bears that have been set up to look like they’re having sex.

“<Somebody has a weird sense of humor,>” she says, tossing a grin over at him that quickly fades into a curious look. “<Are you okay? You’re face is all red? Oh my god! Are you embarrassed? Over teddy bear porn?>”

She looks far too gleeful at this prospect, and Maccready quickly rushes to defend his pride from her often ruthless teasing.

“<No! No! It’s…I was thinking about->“ he stops, suddenly aware that he has boxed himself into a corner. <About nothing. I was thinking about nothing. Stop looking at me like that.>“

Wheezing with laughter, Nora quickly snaps a picture of the bears with her Pipboy before picking them up to stuff in her already overflowing pack.

“<Must’ve been a pretty good nothing to get you that flustered,>“ she teases. “<It’s ok. You’re young, I remember being that age. A stiff breeze could get me going if it brushed past me the right way.>“

Maccready quickly slams the door on the images that little tidbit of information brings to mind. He has enough trouble keeping himself from thinking about all the people in his limited social circle that way without Nora just tossing shit like that at him. She is completely right though, and Maccready sort of hates her for it.

Back when he’d had Lucy, she’d been the be all end all for him as far as sex went. Sure the idle fantasy popped up, but he just wasn’t really interested in anyone else. And for a long time after her death he could barely think about getting through the next day let alone much of anything else.

But it’s been years now, and without anyone to focus his attention on, Maccready often finds himself latching onto literally anyone that shows him even a modicum of interest and even a few people who don’t. Not the greatest mindset to be in when it comes to sex, and it has led to a lot of choices in bedmates that he would rather not think about. And now here he is thinking about Strong of all people…

A tap against his shoulder pulls Maccready back to the present and he realizes that he has been quiet for too long. Nora is starting to look worried again.

“<Your thoughts?>“ She asks, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“<I’d kill for a drink right now,>“ Maccready replies, chuckling nervously in an effort to lighten the mood back up. “<And, actually, I have.>“

She rolls her eyes, but lets the conversation drop, much to his relief. She really is a great person, the boss. 10/10 would follow into weird and dangerous situations again with only mild complaining.

\---------

Strong is gone by the time they get back. He spends too long searching him out to avoid him before finally breaking down and asking Nora.

“<I know the two of you usually run missions together,>“ she tells him with a concerned look that eats away at his soul. “<But you’ve seemed kind of out of it lately so I sent him and Hancock out together instead.>”

“<That’s… fine…>“ Maccready assures her, not really feeling fine about it at all. Which makes no sense, since he’d been planning to avoid Strong anyway.

Tilting her head to the side, Nora’s already overwhelming concern intensifies to near unbearable levels, and Maccready beats a hasty retreat before she can ask him about his thoughts or, god forbid, his feelings again. He spends the next week avoiding anyone and everyone who gets too close… which is easy enough since nobody has ever really bothered trying except the boss and occasionally either Hancock or Cait.

And Strong, but that had really been more of a weird accident than actual choice. Maccready still isn’t sure what exactly keeps the super mutant around but he hopes that it isn’t gone now despite… well… everything. He supposes he could just ask Strong himself when he gets back. It isn’t a conversation Maccready is looking forward to, even a whole week later, but it’s either that or continue avoiding Strong for the rest of their lives (which… probably isn’t a real option).

 _“Either fix the problem or get over it,"_ Lucy always said. Sound advice from one of the most practical people he’d ever had the good fortune of knowing. She would probably laugh her ass off if she could see him now.

 _“Classic RJ,"_  she would sigh, rolling her eyes. _“Always biting off more than you can chew. Try not to choke to death, idiot.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with [some](http://stitcheshatesstairs.tumblr.com/post/161679865894/i-love-them-so-much) [art](http://stitcheshatesstairs.tumblr.com/post/164754822894/uh-wow-you-are-really-big-huh-go-home) . 0u0


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strong lets out a huff and wanders off grumbling to himself, leaving Maccready to deal with the suddenly looming robot. “Uh, yeah. That’s us. And you must be...Curie?”
> 
> “Oui, I am,“ she begins, only to be cut off by shouting in the distance. Maccready quickly sprints around her, recognizing Strong’s angry voice in the fray.
> 
> Sure enough, he finds his friend a few aisles down, trading obscenities with a man in power armor who looks about two breaths from blowing Strong’s brains out. The only thing stopping either of them from just duking it out right there in the middle of the stacks appears to be a short middle-aged man in a suit standing between them, a hand to either of their chests as he recites….some sort of poetry?

Nine days after Strong left, Nora finally corners him again, this time with a mission request. Maccready agrees, of course, exchanges some snark with Piper, and follows the boss off into the wastes.

The job itself is pretty routine. Some settlement or other needs help wiping their own ass and instead of doing it himself, Preston has handed responsibility off to someone else yet again. Maccready can’t help but bitterly note that for a faction so apparently invested in helping the people of the Commonwealth, the Minutemen have a bad habit of being all talk and no real action. It’s something they should probably work on if they don’t want to get wiped out again.

Not that he’d ever say that in front of Nora, a woman who only sees the best in everyone… even him. The best boss he’s ever had, honestly.

“<So…>” Nora begins, once they are far enough out to roam that he can’t turn back without it being super obvious. “<How’s life?>”

She is also the absolute worst, Maccready decides, glaring into the middle distance while trying to come up with something suitably decent.

“<Absolutely peachy,>” he finally deadpans, wondering if maybe a deathclaw might lumber by to save him from this conversation. “<Just another beautiful day in The Commonwealth.>”

He can feel Nora’s eyes boring into him, but Maccready knows that if he looks into her eyes it’s all over. That’s how she got him the last three times.

“<You seem… tense,>” she notes. “<More than usual, that is.>”

“<It’s nothing,>” he lies -badly, he knows, but not everyone can be _Deacon_ \- continuing forward with the vain hope that she would just drop it.

“<Nothing wouldn’t have you drinking so much. I don’t think I’ve seen you sober since last week.>”

“<I’m sober now. Mostly…>”

“<Exactly!>” Nora pushes in front of him and Maccready swiftly looks down. “<Something is wrong! It’s not->” She ducks, trying to meet his gaze, but Maccready is a professional at dodging glances. He hears her give up with a long sigh before pressing on. “<It’s… it’s not your… son, is it? I thought he was getting better?>”

“What!?” He says aloud and makes the mistake of glancing up at her face with a startled look, eyes meeting for a brief but damning moment. She has him in her sights, damn it all. “<No! No! No! Duncan’s fine! Better than fine actually, if....that person's to be believed…>”

“<That person…?>“

Maccready makes a slashing motion, shaking his head. “<They're…not important. Just some jerk I know. Duncan is okay. I’m just->“ He has no idea how to even begin to finish that sentence. “<-confused? About something. And not…handling it very well at all. Business as usual. Don’t worry about it.>“

The look Nora gives him is skeptical, but she seems to realize that she won’t be getting anything more out of him without literally pulling teeth and finally drops the subject. The “For Now” hangs unspoken in the air between them as they continue down the road toward Covenant.

\---------

Twelve days, one seriously fucked up settlement, and three headed-off interventions later, Maccready and Nora finally stumble back into Sanctuary to find Cait and Preston having it out in the street while various settlers look on in dismayed bemusement. Piper appears to be trying to calm them both down with little success if the way she begins waving frantically at Nora for help as soon as she notices the boss’s presence is any indication. Maccready leaves them all to it, slinking off to find a dark corner to hide himself in until this whole mess blows over.

He ends up running smack into Strong instead. He’s watching the fight with an irritated look, and Maccready attempts to back away, still fully determined to continue his plan of avoiding his friend. Strong does not give him that option though, taking hold of Maccready’s arm and pulling him against his side.

“Puny gunner back,” Strong greets, letting go of Maccready‘s arm as he turns to face him. “Finally.”

“Hey, now. You left first, buddy,” Maccready protests, crossing his arms defensively. Anxiety crawls across his shoulders like an old friend and it’s all he can do to not bolt from this conversation. “What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you to come back?”

“No. That’s stupid. Just come back faster.”

“Aww, did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Strong replies plainly, staring down at him like he thinks Maccready is an idiot. It’s a look he is used to and somehow it manages to set Maccready more at ease. Maybe they are okay after all?

“Oh. I, uh, missed you too, big guy.” He grins hesitantly up at his friend who bares his teeth in response. Yeah, they are okay. Good. Maccready breathes a little easier as Strong grumbles some sort of acknowledgment before reaching down to nudge him not-so-gently in the shoulder. The human stumbles back a few steps, and Strong uses this momentary distraction to quickly swipe Maccready’s hat, placing it upon his own head.

“What? Hey no,” Maccready yelps, reaching up to try and futilely take back his pilfered possession. “Not this again. Give it back, man. It doesn’t even fit you! Come on…”

“No. Strong think keep,” Strong says, easily pushing Maccready away again. His large hand lingers in Maccready’s hair and the human finds himself leaning into it for a moment before quickly ducking away, red-faced.

Off in the distance, he sees Deacon sidle up to an exasperated looking Nora and gesture towards them. Maccready can’t see what he says, but he can make a guess by how the boss goes slack-jawed before breaking into loud high-pitched giggles. He feels his face flare up hotter in sheer mortification as he spins back around to glare up at Strong who is watching the others like they are an odd puzzle he can’t seem to work out.

Giving his hat up for lost, Maccready turns to stalk away, but finds his arm being grabbed again as something plops down onto his head, obscuring his vision for a moment before he shoves it back up frantically. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s his own hat, because he is too distracted by the hand that has moved down his back to steer him around toward the house he shares with the Longs.

“Hey, uh, where we going, buddy?” Maccready asks, trying and failing to squirm away from Strong’s touch without being too obvious about it. Strong just pushes harder, causing him to almost fall over. Another hand against his chest catches him quickly and Maccready lets out a pained huff. “Okay. Ow. Watch it.”

“Hurry up,” Strong grouses as he continues to push Maccready along. “Show Strong picture books again.”

“Comics,” Maccready corrects idly, glancing back up at his friend who just rolls his eyes.

“Caw-micks. Whatever. Hurry up.”

\---------

They spend the rest of the day exploring plots and practicing words. Strong’s reading level isn’t actually that low. His biggest problem seems to be a lack of patience more than anything, and honestly Maccready can relate. Comics are so much easier to follow than the textbooks that Joseph used to make them all study back in Lamplight and the novels that Daisy likes to recommend to him whenever he visits her. Less words for his shitty vision to blur together means less headaches, and less headaches means he can follow along with the plot longer before having to throw the book down in frustration.

Strong seems to enjoy them too, if the way he keeps demanding Maccready read with him in their spare moments is any indication. Not that he’s complaining. It’s a nice way to spend time with someone without the stress of having to actually talk to them which suits them both just fine.

Longer books are a bit trickier for both of them. Following up on Deacon’s suggestion, Maccready actually starts trying to read Shakespeare (a feat he has not attempted since childhood for good reason) if only to understand why anyone would even bother. Strong is skeptical at first, citing the texts as being too boring and not worth their time with too many confusing words, and after a few pages Maccready is inclined to agree. It doesn’t help that the words are small and possibly written in a foreign language.

“Maybe we could get Deacon in here to translate,” he grumbles, barely half-a-chapter in and still unable to tell what the hell is going on. “They’d probably just be an ass, er, jerk about it though.”

“Talks too much,” Strong agrees. “Lies more. Can’t trust not to.”

“Eh, they're not always that bad. Mostly. Sometimes. With select people. Which neither of us are part of. Okay yeah, you’re right. Never mind.” Maccready drops the book into his lap with a groan, rubbing at his aching eyes tiredly. “We could go bust into the Boston Public and see if there’s anything there that could help us?”

“Strong hate library.”

“Yeah, I’m not fond of it either, buddy, but it’s probably our best bet. And hey, you'll probably get to smash things on the way there?”

Strong makes begrudgingly approving noises of agreement, and the two pack up to head out.

\---------

The journey to the Boston Public Library is just as long as Maccready remembers, and by the time they get there he’s ready to just grab what they need and hole up in Goodneighbor for the night rather than attempt the journey back.

“Look, unless you’re planning to carry me, there is no way we’re heading back to Sanctuary tonight,” Maccready loudly informs Strong over his grumbling protests. “Because if I have to walk another _six freaking_ _hours_ I’m going to literally pass out and then where will we be, huh?”

Whatever Strong is about to say gets interrupted by the whirring sounds of a Miss Nanny rounding the corner to greet them.

“Bienvenue,” she says, bobbing around between them. “You must be Monsieur’s Maccready and Strong. Madam Nora informed us of your arriving.”

Strong lets out a huff and wanders off grumbling to himself, leaving Maccready to deal with the suddenly looming robot. “Uh, yeah. That’s us. And you must be...Curie?”

“Oui, I am,“ she begins, only to be cut off by shouting in the distance. Maccready quickly sprints around her, recognizing Strong’s angry voice in the fray.

Sure enough, he finds his friend a few aisles down, trading obscenities with a man in power armor who looks about two breaths from blowing Strong’s brains out. The only thing stopping either of them from just duking it out right there in the middle of the stacks appears to be a short middle-aged man in a suit standing between them, a hand to either of their chests as he recites….some sort of poetry?

The whole scene is utterly ridiculous and as Curie whirls past to join the fray, Maccready can’t help but laugh at the sight. This attracts the attention of the arguing pair who both turn to give him near identical glares that send Maccready to the floor in fits.

“Monsieur Danse, these are the friends Madam Nora said were coming,” Curie chastises, shoving herself in the Brotherhood soldier’s face and breaking his line of sight long enough for Strong to seem comfortable with backing down.

He glares down at the human still touching his chest before taking hold of his hand and moving it away. The man happily adjusts their grip into a handshake, greeting Strong like an old friend while the super mutant just looks pained by the whole interaction. Maccready is pretty sure he is going to die from asphyxiation if he doesn’t stop laughing soon. Or that Strong is going to murder him, if the look his friend is now leveling him with is any indication. He stalks over, glaring down at Maccready in pure disgust before taking hold of his arm to yank him back to his feet.

“Not funny,” Strong grouses, snapping his teeth in Maccready’s face furiously which does nothing to quell the human’s humor.

“It’s a little funny,” Maccready argues, resisting the urge to reach out and flick Strong in the nose, because he doesn’t actually have a death wish. It’s right there though, and oh so tempting. He puts his hand against Strong’s cheek instead, letting it rest there for a moment before pushing him away. “Also, your breath stinks. Wow.”

“ _You_ stink,” Strong grumbles, but he does drop Maccready and back off. Poetry Guy, who has sidled up to them sometime during this exchange, gives them both a curious look before beaming happily up at Strong.

“And who is _this_?” He wonders, tipping his head in Maccready’s direction. “Another friend, I presume?”

Strong looks about as likely to throw a tantrum as actually answer, and as amusing as this whole situation is Maccready doesn’t want to start another altercation with Mister Trigger-Happy standing nearby. He quickly defuses the situation by getting in between the two of them. An action Strong seems grateful for, if the way he skulks further behind Maccready is any sort of indication.

“Name’s Maccready,” he introduces himself, fidgeting with his rifle sling for a moment to avoid the hand the other human holds out for him. “And you are…?”

The man pulls his hand back with a grimace before allowing his features to smooth out as he places it dramatically over his heart. “I, good sir, am Rex Goodman, foremost actor in the world today.”

Maccready glances back at Strong curiously and is mildly surprised to find him still standing close behind, before turning back to Rex. “Actor? Like…uh, plays and sh-stuff?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Oh, that’s….cool. How do you and Strong know each other?” Because this must be the same Rex that Strong likes to talk about sometimes. The one who introduced him to Shakespeare and- A light bulb suddenly lights up in his brain. “Oh, wait.” He snaps his fingers and points at Rex. “You’re the trap guy. From the radio.”

There is a huff of laughter from behind him as Rex‘s face takes on a pained countenance. “Yes, yes. I was ‘the trap’. But how was I to know the mutants would be so clever as to figure out how to intercept and broadcast a radio signal?”

“Yeah, they can be pretty dumb.”

Strong shoves him. “Smart enough to set up trap for dumb humans,” he grumbles darkly while Maccready rights himself with an annoyed grimace.

“Hey now, if I heard right, they had you in that cage too, big guy. Not _my_ fault your people kick out all the smart ones.”

“That they did,” Rex agrees, moving around Maccready to put himself back in both of their sight lines. “For exactly the reason you described. The rest of his brethren just weren’t ready to embrace the word of the bard, I suppose.”

“Bard…?” Tilting his head, Maccready shoots Strong a curious look and sees his friend shake his head with an almost frantic look. “What bard?”

Strong covers his face with a groan while Rex’s eyes light up, and Maccready realizes it is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December is a hecking busy month for me, so this will prolly be my last update until next year. Wanted to get one more chapter in before the break though. Happy Holidays, folks. See you on the other side, hopefully.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The morning steals upon the night, melting the darkness,” Rex greets them nonsensically the following morning as they are trying to sneak out without anyone noticing. “And what a good morning it is, my fellows. Before you head off, might I possibly request a favor from the two of you?”
> 
> “You got caps?” Maccready asks, still tired and more than a little cranky at having been spotted. He barely manages not to groan aloud at the way Rex’s eyes light up -like they’ve already agreed. Strong is giving him the stink eye again, but they wouldn’t even be in this mess if the man didn’t feel the need to constantly stomp around like a giant beacon of Notice Me, so Maccready just glares back sullenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaack.

Between Rex’s yammering, Danse’s bitching, and Strong’s general unhelpfulness it takes Maccready nearly three hours to find anything even remotely like what he had come looking for in the first place. And that is only after he finally breaks down and asks Curie for help.  
  
“A dictionary,” he sighs, taking the battered book in hand and flipping through a few crumpled and mildewed pages. “I was more hoping for, like, books on holotape or something…”

“Do you not enjoy reading, Monsieur Maccready?” Curie asks, whirling forward to study him more closely with one of her eyestalks. Maccready leans away slightly and she seems to get the hint, backing off quickly.

“Just ‘Maccready’ is fine. And, nah, I like it well enough. Just not very good at it, is all.” He makes a vague gesture in front of his eyes. “Too blurry.”

“Oh! You need glasses? That is a completely different problem, but I‘m sure I could-”

“What? No,” Maccready shakes his head. “My vision is fine.”

“But, you just said-”

“It’s. Fine,” he repeats forcefully not really wanting to get into this discussion again, especially not with someone like Curie. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you for the book.”

“Oh. You are very welcome, Monsieur. If you need help with anything else, just let me know.” She gives him another pointed look before finally wandering off, and Maccready breathes a quick sigh of relief. He really hadn’t expected her to let the subject go so easily. Miss Nannies could be some truly stubborn robots when they got an idea in their head.

Dictionary firmly in hand, Maccready heads off in the opposite direction to try and find Strong. Night will be falling soon, and while he doesn’t exactly like the idea of having to deal with any more of Danse and Strong’s constant stand-offs, he figures it will probably be safer to just stick around rather than try and find their way to Goodneighbor in the dark.

 _“Better mildly annoyed than dead,”_ he remembers...Deacon saying back before everything went to shit. A phrase Lucy had liked to parrot back at Maccready whenever he got impatient over anything. The bitter irony of it all still sits hot in his gut and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to look back on the good times without being instantly reminded of all the bad that came after.

Maybe eventually, with more time and distance. Right now though it takes all his mental effort to not let himself stew in it as he finally gives up searching for Strong and finds a suitably dry corner to tuck himself away in for a few hours.

\---------

The sound of something approaching startles Maccready from a restless doze and up into a fighting stance before he can register who it is. He stares down the barrel of his rifle at Strong, who has paused a distance away to give him a considering look.

“Sleeping?” He asks, ignoring the gun pointed at him and moving around it to plop down beside Maccready.

“Trying to,” Maccready agrees, yawning into his elbow tiredly as he lowers his weapon back down onto his lap. He scoots over to try and make a little more room for his friend, but Strong just gives him a disgruntled look and tugs Maccready back toward him.

“Strong stay with. Quieter.” He settles down, eyes catching and holding what little light manages to make it into their small corner. The sight is more than a bit unsettling, like most things about Strong, and Maccready can’t stop staring even as he feels himself starting to drift off again.

“For now, at least,” he jokes, pulling off his hat to run a hand through his hair agitatedly before shoving it back onto his head, yanking it down over his own eyes. His shoulder brushes against Strong’s arm as he slumps down, and Maccready finds himself leaning against it more heavily before he can think to stop himself. Strong isn’t moving away though, so Maccready lets it be, curling himself in tighter against his friend’s side.

He’s out before he even knows it.

\---------

“The morning steals upon the night, melting the darkness,” Rex greets them nonsensically the following morning as they are trying to sneak out without anyone noticing. “And what a good morning it is, my fellows. Before you head off, might I possibly request a favor from the two of you?”

“You got caps?” Maccready asks, still tired and more than a little cranky at having been spotted. He barely manages not to groan aloud at the way Rex’s eyes light up -like they’ve already agreed. Strong is giving him the stink eye again, but they wouldn’t even be in this mess if the man didn’t feel the need to constantly stomp around like a giant beacon of Notice Me, so Maccready just glares back sullenly.

“Ah, the mercenary!” Rex intones, completely ignoring (or maybe not even noticing) the silent fight going on in front of him. “An oft overlooked archetype in works of literature. Of course I would be willing to offer currency for such an undertaking as this if you could be convinced to spare me the time.”

“250 caps is my starting rate, no negotiations.” Strong’s glare intensifies, but Maccready refuses to budge on this. Doing shit for Nora is one thing, but he doesn’t know this guy from Atom and refuses to let himself be taken for a ride over it.

“Per day? That‘s awfully low, isn‘t it?” Rex wonders, eyes widening and Maccready has a sudden weird feeling of déjà vu.

“I-no, it’s-” he sighs loudly, rolling his eyes up to stare at the ceiling. “Look just- what do you want?”

The request turns out to be simple enough. Rex just needs someone to escort him back home. Not because he can’t handle himself, he rushes to assure them both (Maccready finds it hard not to doubt a man who willingly waltzed right into a super mutant den to read them poetry and can tell by the look on Strong’s face that he’s thinking much the same thing), but more because he has absolutely no idea how the fuck to get there.

“I fear that my navigational sense just isn’t what it used to be,” he tells them, wandering ahead slightly as they pass through the ruined streets of downtown Boston. “This city is so easy to lose yourself in, but once we make it to the river, I should be fine.

He never actually specifies which river though, or even what direction they should be headed in and its not until they’ve been walking for a good hour that Maccready actually manages to get a word in edgewise to ask.

“Southeast,” Rex responds promptly. “Across the river. WRVR radio station.”

“So…that way,” Maccready asks, pointing in the near opposite direction of where they had been headed. Rex’s face turns a mottled red color as he spouts off something flowery sounding to try and hide his fluster while Strong is starting to look straight up apoplectic. Maccready cuts them both off before it can become a thing, heaving a tired sigh and walking away (in the right direction this time) leaving them no real choice but to follow or get left behind.

Now finally headed in the (hopefully) right direction, Rex begins to recognize landmarks, yammering on about them to an increasingly disinterested Maccready. A few paces back, Strong trudges along at a shuffling crawl, eyes passing over their surroundings hopefully as he searches for something to smash. So far, all they’ve really seen has been a few stingwings and a small pack of ferals, which Maccready figures means they’re about due for a raider’s nest or super mutant den anytime now.

They are not disappointed. At the first jeering calls of drugged up raiders, Strong is barreling forward, roaring defiantly as he swings his sledge wildly into the fray. Maccready quickly drags Rex behind an overturned concrete slab. What the thespian lacks in accuracy, he makes up for in enthusiasm, laying down a pretty good cover fire that keeps the raiders off their backs while Maccready picks off anyone that manages to avoid Strong’s wave of destruction. The whole altercation lasts maybe ten minutes and by the end Strong is looking much more satisfied as he gathers up a corpse or two to snack on.

“Doesn’t it…bother you at all when he does that?” Rex asks, trying and failing to hide his shuddering revulsion at what he knows to be happening behind his carefully turned back.

“Oh no, it’s gross as shit,” Maccready replies, shifting through the raiders’ pockets for anything useful. “But I mean, everyone’s gotta eat, right? And it’s not like they’re getting any deader.”

“That’s a very….pragmatic way of looking at it.”

“Look, just be glad he’s not trying to offer us any, ok.”

Rex’s face turns a sickly green as he tries to hide a gag behind his hand, excusing himself hurriedly to throw up behind a rusted out mailbox nearby.

\---------

They finally reach the river at about midday, only to find a broken bridge and no way around for miles out.

“Water not good for humans,” Strong mutters before stalking off, leaving Maccready and Rex to try and work out a plan that doesn’t involve just swimming for it.

Twenty minutes later, they’ve still got nothing and Strong hasn’t returned yet so they decide to just sit tight for a bit rather than risk accidentally leaving him behind. Rex tries to make small talk several times before settling for just talking at Maccready, which suits them both better anyways. About halfway through some long-winded monologue about mice, Strong makes his reappearance, ambling down the way carrying a bundle of wood and a few other odds and ends which he sets up on the bank before wading out into water. He’s about halfway to the center before either human thinks to ask just what the hell exactly he’s doing.

“Strong fix bridge,” he informs them, slugging his way out into the current. “Not like Leader, though. Only for temporary.”

“Would you like some assistance?” Rex offers, already pushing himself to his feet to head towards the pile of what is apparently supplies. Maccready stays where he is, eying the water distrustfully. No way in hell is he going to risk drowning over this, even if Strong wanted help, which he quickly and resolutely assures them both he does not.

Rex continues to stand fidgeting by the bank anyways, transferring his rambling one-sided conversation back and forth between his silent companions with the vigor of a man who either really likes the sound of his own voice or despises long silences. Maybe both. Maccready doesn’t really care either way though he does entertain the idea of introducing Rex to Deacon. The combined force of their self-satisfied chatter could probably power the entire Commonwealth indefinitely and Nora would be able to take those boiling hot showers she is always going on about missing again.

“One Deacon is bad enough,” Maccready grumbles to himself, leaning back on his hands to watch Strong drag a few of the larger bits of dry wood up and begin securing them to the bridge’s remains. “The boss is just gonna have to make due with lukewarm water like the rest of us.”

\---------

Building the bridge is an arduous process to watch that takes way longer than just swimming across would have, and after seeing Strong nearly go under several times from treading too far out into the undertow Maccready is beginning to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t just give up and try to find some other way around. There’s got to be another bridge somewhere right?

But Strong is already committed, skulking across the wooden remains, arms flexing in the midday sun as he briskly lays down long slabs of wood and ties them into place. Droplets of water roll down the planes of his back to pool in the dip just above his kilt, and Maccready idly imagines running his hands along their path.

What would that be like? Definitely rough, he knows from the few times he’s had the nerve to reach out and brush his hands against Strong’s skin, all those scars and constant exposure to sunlight building up over time into an almost leathery texture. Warm too, with a weird sense of safety that is so counter to everything he has ever known about super mutants that it sets Maccready’s head spinning trying to wrap his mind around it.

He hadn’t actually meant to fall asleep on Strong the night before, and he sure as hell hadn’t meant to burrow in further as the night went on. Strong hadn’t seemed to mind, waving off Maccready’s mortified apologies with some throwaway line about community and bed-sharing that told him way more than he ever wanted to know about super mutant sleeping habits, but it was still distressing to realize that that had probably been one of the best night’s of sleep he’d had in a very long time.

And all he’d had to do was cuddle up to a goddamn super mutant like he was trying to make Strong his own personal teddy bear. Maccready can feel his face flaring hot just thinking about it now. Or maybe that’s the sun. Or the way the muscles in Strong’s back shift as he tosses another board across the empty space separating the two halves of the bridge. Probably a dangerous mix of all three, he notes dropping his face into his hands with a heavy groan.

He really needs to get over this….whatever it is fast. Before he fucks up another good thing in his life over it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a book in Little Lamplight that Maccready once bullied Lucy into reading to him (back when he still couldn’t read himself but didn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even her) about a moose who kept bumming favors off some kid until the whole thing looped back around and around. She’d told him it was a lesson about showing kindness towards strangers, and Maccready had resolved then and there to never be the sort of person who let them self get taken advantage of like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for awkward sexual situations towards the end of the chapter

There was a book in Little Lamplight that Maccready once bullied Lucy into reading to him (back when he still couldn’t read himself but didn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even her) about a moose who kept bumming favors off some kid until the whole thing looped back around and around. She’d told him it was a lesson about showing kindness towards strangers, and Maccready had resolved then and there to never be the sort of person who let them self get taken advantage of like that.

Nora reminds him of the kid from that book. If you give a settler some food they’ll ask you to take care of all their problems for them and bitch at you about how you’re doing it wrong the whole time.

“<That’s what happens when you’re the leader,>“ Nora tells him once, when he brings it up to her. “<Everyone wants something and nobody is ever satisfied. Kind of like being mayor to a town full of children.>“

“<Except these are grown-ups who should know better,>“ Maccready protests waspishly, glaring down a man who had been moving in with the intent look of someone that needed help with something incredibly stupid that he should definitely know how to do himself. The man turns pale before skittering away quickly, leaving Nora with an exasperated but fond look.

“<Sometimes grown-ups need help too, you know. You’ll understand when you’re older.>“ He punches her lightly on the arm for that one but she just gives him that high-pitched laugh of hers he’s grown to love so much.

That conversation returns to him, thirty some-odd feet in the air dangling from WRVR’s radio tower as he tries to yank one of their satellites back into its rightful position, like an ironic slap to the face. From somewhere down below, Maccready can hear Strong grumbling to himself about something. Probably how stupid Maccready is for doing this, because God knows his own head won’t shut up about it.

If you give a moose a muffin, he’ll ask you to fix all the satellites on his goddamn radio tower. Oh, and by the way, could you maybe take out a squad of Gunners while you’re at it? Their relay station is jamming our signal, you see, and we’d really like it to stop doing that.

Maccready kind of wants to jam his fist into Rex’s face. At least he’s getting paid for this stupidity, and hell, maybe they’ll actually get a decent radio station out of the Commonwealth from it. He never thought he would miss 3Dawg’s howling so much until he’d spent the last five months having to put up with Travis’s confidence issues.

“They should give Magnolia her own radio show,” Maccready grumbles, finally managing to wrestle another dish into it’s correct position. “Or maybe her and Kent could share his. I should talk to him about that. Guy would probably love it.”

The last dish goes in smoother than the others had and it’s with great relief that Maccready is finally able to begin heading back down the tower. He’s about halfway there when he feels Strong grab hold of his waist, nearly giving Maccready a heart attack as he easily lifts him away from the tower and back onto solid ground

“Uh…th-thanks,” Maccready stammers out, pressing a hand to his chest and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. “But next time, some warning please? Think I just saw my life flash before my eyes there for a moment.”

The look Strong gives him is supremely unimpressed. “Don’t climb up high places.”

“Well, how else was I supposed to get to the dishes, huh?”

Strong eyes the tower peevishly before stalking away, still glowering, leaving Maccready to wonder what the heck that had been about.

\---------

Anne Hargraves is staring at him. She’s not being obvious about it, eyes tracking away boredly before he can catch her, but Maccready knows. Can feel it crawling up the back of his neck as he kicks back in a chair to peruse a magazine he’d found lying on a table in one of the backrooms. She doesn’t say anything, though, so Maccready shrugs it off. Not the first time he’s been watched this closely, won’t be the last. He knows what he looks like.

When Anne isn’t pretending to not watch him, she’s more openly staring at Strong. The disturbed glint in her gaze only growing more pronounced as the day and their list of tasks drags on.

George Cooper on the other hand, could not be more delighted to have them around. The moment Rex walked through the door, his eyes had lit up like, well, like someone who probably thought their best friend had been eaten by super mutants. He’d spent about ten minutes thanking Maccready profusely on Nora’s behalf and another ten gawking at Strong, before getting right back down to business in that way only self-assured old people could pull off.

Flipping a page in his magazine, Maccready watches him and Rex attempt to convince Strong to join their little theatre group. Something about needing new blood (Strong had perked up a little at that before Rex rushed to explain that it was a metaphor for talent) and the chance to improve his speech and literacy skills, Maccready stopped paying attention when he realized they wouldn’t’t be getting paid for it.

“Puny gunner already helping,” Strong tells them, gesturing over at him. “Leader too. Strong not leave them.”

“Ah! Yes. And how is our dear friend, Nora, faring? I will admit to a bit of trepidation at leaving you in her hands, but things seem to have worked out for you, I assume?” Rex glances over at Maccready with a strangely sly look.

“Leader very busy.”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard all about her various exploits over the airwaves, and from her other compatriots at the library. It warms my heart to know she is doing well. Such a compassionate soul is rare in these trying times.”

Strong just sort of shrugs and turns away, either unable or unwilling to follow the conversation anymore, ambling towards Maccready to come stare over his shoulder. Lifting the magazine up slightly higher, Maccready shows him the article he had been reading.

“Hmmph,” Strong grunts, leaning closer to squint at the page. “Super mutants having better way. Humans too….” he pauses for a moment, thinking,” ...not easy?”

“Complicated?” Maccready tries, glancing up at him. Strong turns his head and Maccready realizes just how close they are again. If he were to lean forward just a little bit he could-

The sound of Anne clearing her throat loudly close by jolts Maccready out of his thoughts, and he jerks back, shoving his now burning face down into the magazine to avoid her shrewd gaze. Strong lets out a huff, breath hitting Maccready’s ear in a disconcertingly pleasant way, and pushes himself back up out of his friend’s personal space to sit on the ground nearby.

Peaking over the edge of the magazine, Maccready watches Strong pull out one of the playbooks Rex had shoved into his hands earlier that day and begin looking it over. He hadn’t seemed interested at the time, but watching Strong pour over the book now Maccready wonders if maybe his friend will eventually decide to take Rex up on his offer. Maybe not right now, with Nora still being his leader and all, but she is going to want to settle down eventually. Especially when she finds her kid and is finally able to return to the quiet life she misses so desperately. Where will that leave them?

Maccready knows his own plan: get Duncan from the Capitol and try to find a semi-stable environment to raise him in. Past that, he doesn’t really care, so long as his son is safe. That’s all that really matters to him, in the end.

But where does that leave Strong? Will he still be willing to stick around when things aren’t exciting anymore? Or will he leave, possibly never coming back like too many people had done in Maccready‘s life? He doesn’t know, and honestly Maccready’s not even sure why he cares so much about it.

\--------------

The makeshift bridge is still standing solid on their way out the next day. Strong takes a moment once they’re over it to apparently appreciate his hard work before continuing on along the path toward home, Maccready trailing along behind him. Between raiders, mutants, molerats, and everything else the Commonwealth sees fit to toss their way, it takes them way too long to make it back to Sanctuary, and that’s only after Strong gets annoyed with Maccready’s constant bitching and slings the human up over his shoulder like a sack of tatos.

“You said carry,” Strong tells him, wrapping an arm around the back of Maccready’s legs as he scans the trees around them for threats. “Strong carry.”

“I was joking. Seriously, what is your obsession with picking me up, “ Maccready wonders, collapsing back against Strong’s shoulder with a defeated sigh. “At least put me down before we get to the Red Rocket. God, I’m never gonna live this down.”

Strong just chuckles, a dark spine-tingling rumble that shakes through all their points of contact, sending a deep flush shooting through Maccready’s body. He tries to squirm away again, but that just makes things worse, pressing his hips more firmly against Strong’s chest as the arm around him tightens in response. Heat rushes through his core, pooling in the pit of stomach, and Maccready really hopes Strong can’t feel how hard he is right now, even though he knows there is no way he hasn’t noticed.

The arm holding him shifts again, one large hand sliding up his thigh to rest just under his ass and squeezing lightly before moving back down. Another laugh rumbles through Strong’s chest.

“Oh my God. Please just put me down,” Maccready whines, dropping his burning face into his hands.

Strong does not, in fact, put him down, not until they’ve skirted the ruins of Concord and are nearly upon the old Red Rocket the super mutant has laid claim to as his own. Maccready scrambles back to solid ground, quickly putting distance between himself and the towering source of what is probably the third most awkward boner he’s ever had in his entire short existence.

“Well, this has been fun, I’m just gonna-“ he gestures helplessly down the path towards Sanctuary, mind whirling as he attempts to think of something disgusting enough to make this walk of shame a little more manageable. But all he can think of is how the idea of seeing a super mutant naked used to be one of those things. “I gotta go. Bye.”

He’s about halfway to the bridge before he realizes that Strong is still following him. The super mutant looks pissed-off, face set in a deep scowl as his longer legs quickly overtake Maccready’s pace to block off his hasty escape.

“Uh…you need something, big guy?” Maccready asks, shifting restlessly, as he glances longingly towards town and the privacy of his own damn room (a possession he is suddenly intensely thankful for).

Strong heaves a deep sigh, chest expanding with the movement, and Maccready jerks his gaze back up when he realizes that he is staring. His friend doesn’t seem to have noticed though, eyes focused off into the distance mulishly as he appears to be trying to organize his own thoughts. A bead of sweat slides gently down Strong’s front, over the rolling slopes of his muscles, and Maccready’s eyes follow it down, down….

“You…want come to Strong’s room?” Strong finally asks, yanking Maccready straight out of a pleasant fantasy about chasing that bead of liquid with his tongue and back into the sudden cold reality of the very real conversation he is currently having with the star of it.

“Uh! You- um-“ Maccready takes a step back, staring up at Strong in shock. There is no way his friend meant that the way it sounded, right? “Your room? You mean like…” His eyes cast around frantically for some sort of rational non x-rated fantasy-induced reason for Strong’s invitation and fall on the book peeking out of his bag.

“You…wanna get back to reading?” He guesses, hands fidgeting together nervously before being shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “Well, I mean, sure! Okay! We got the dictionary and all that, so, yeah. Let’s have at it.”

Strong stills, a strange, almost confused expression crossing his face for a moment before falling back into the usual customary grimace. “Yes. That…exactly what Strong meant. Read the Shake Spear,” he mutters, gripping the sledge in his hands hard enough to make the wood grind underneath them. He doesn’t seem very happy about his own proposal, and Maccready wonders why he bothered making it if that is the case.

“Alright then…I’ll meet you back at your place in a bit, I guess. Just gotta, y’know, unload and grab some food and sh-stuff. Food and stuff. Yep. I’ll be back after I….finish with that. Shouldn’t take too long at this rate…”

Strong grumbles something non-committal sounding and moves back around Maccready towards the Red Rocket. Finally free, Maccready all but sprints down the path in the opposite direction, crossing the bridge and hurling himself across town in record time. Jun calls out a greeting as he passes, but he barely notices in his mad dash to finally get some damned privacy.

He makes it to his room without further incident, shutting the door quickly and leaning against it with a punched out sigh of relief that only grows when he finally manages to clumsily undo his pants. Shoving them down enough to release his aching cock, he hisses in discomfort at the drag of his too dry palm across it before hurriedly licking his hand and trying again. It’s not much better, but it’s also not the worst he‘s ever had so Maccready presses on, giving his dick a few quick jerks while his mind trips over several relatively safer fantasies to focus on the idea of being held against the door by bigger, rougher hands and fucked within an inch of his life.

Maccready still lacks a final verdict on actual super mutant dick, but his brain is more than happy to supply him with an approximation based on the logical assumption that if Strong has one, its probably just as fucking huge as the rest of him. The idea of having all that inside him sends Maccready crashing over the edge more quickly than he was expecting, and he only just manages to move his hand to keep from spilling out all over the only set of clothing he owns.

Reaching over to grab a rag off a nearby shelf, Maccready wipes himself off before yanking his pants back up. His body feels too heavy in that pleasant after-glow way, and he drifts across the room to set his pack down before flopping face-first onto his bed.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /quietly ups the rating on this fic in preparation of whats to eventually cum./


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I figured it was best to-” he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence and decides to not even bother. “I brought food?” He repeats instead, holding out the fuller plate carefully.
> 
> “….thank you,” Strong finally bites out after staring at the food long enough to make Maccready worry he’’s offended him somehow. He takes the plate and shuffles away, still looking tense and jumpy. The last time Maccready had seen Strong this upset, he’d just had the shit scared out of him by Deacon and didn’t want to admit it.
> 
> “Hey, uh, I can leave if you were busy. But, I mean, you did invite me over so I figured-”
> 
> “No it…fine,” Strong grinds out sounding not even a little fine at all. “Strong be down in minute. Need clean up first. Human wait out here.” He then hands the plate of food back to Maccready distractedly, hurrying back into his room and yanking the curtain closed behind.

On his way back to Strong’s place, Maccready stops in at the little kitchen area Nora has set up to try and better conserve food stores. It’s run by a handful of volunteers who actually know what they are doing when it comes to cooking as opposed to just throwing shit into a pot and hoping for the best like the rest of them. The head cook is an old woman named Senora Lupe who probably speaks English better than Maccready, but has an accent so thick he can only catch about a third of it.

He isn’t sure if the lady has a soft spot for Strong or just wants to keep him away from her cats, but when he mentions where he is headed Lupe shoves a heaping plate of food into his hands with orders to make sure the mutant stays well-fed.

“You have some too,” she tells him, handing off another, thankfully smaller, helping. “Help grow.”

He accepts the plates with thanks and heads down towards the Red Rocket, hoping fervently that nothing decides to attack him on the way. Thankfully, he makes it there without dropping anything and gratefully sets both plates down on the counter inside the lower area.

“Hey, I brought food if you want some!” Maccready calls out, heading around to peak into the side room that Strong and Deacon have been slowly converting into their own personal library. No sign of Strong, though he does find some ammo which he pockets before stepping back outside to check around Nora’s power armor station.

“Hello-o! Strong? Are you here?” He calls, trying to find a good mix between being loud enough for his friend to hear but not loud enough to attract a rampaging deathclaw or something else just as bad and probably failing. Nobody answers either way, and Maccready lets out an irritated huff. Ducking back in to grab the food, he heads around the building to the staircase leading up to the half-finished second story where Strong moved his bed after that one time he woke up covered in molerats.

“Seriously, he’s a nine-foot-tall green giant with zero stealth capability, how hard can he be to find?” He grumbles, ascending the stairs and stepping out onto what used to be the station’s roof. Louder he calls, “Strong? You up here? I brought food.”

A loud crashing noise nearby startles him hard enough to almost drop the plates in his hands. Shifting them over to balance precariously on one arm he pulls his 10mm from his belt and steps carefully forward towards where the noise seems to have originated. A curtain has been pulled across the doorway to Strong’s live-in space, and Maccready fumbles for a moment before finally knocking on the wall beside it with his gun.

“Hey, uh, you alright in there?” he asks, stepping back and to the side in case whatever comes barreling out of that room isn’t friendly. “That sounded pretty bad.”

There’s a series of shuffling sounds and heavy footsteps before the curtain is suddenly yanked aside to reveal Strong looking distinctly ruffled in a way that Maccready isn’t used to seeing often. Like he just got caught playing with Dogmeat or something else Strong would find equally shameful. His face and shoulders are flushed dark, and his clothes are more haphazard than usual, like he’d been in the middle of changing when Maccready showed up.

“Human back quick. Strong thought…have longer.”

Maccready’s eyes raise slowly back up to Strong’s to find his friend staring down at him intently. They both look away hurriedly, and Maccready feels his ears grow hot as he quickly reholsters his pistol.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I figured it was best to-” he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence and decides to not even bother. “I brought food?” He repeats instead, holding out the fuller plate carefully.

“….thank you,” Strong finally bites out after staring at the food long enough to make Maccready worry he’s offended him somehow. He takes the plate and shuffles away, still looking tense and jumpy. The last time Maccready had seen Strong this upset, he’d just had the shit scared out of him by Marcy and didn’t want to admit it.

“Hey, uh, I can leave if you were busy. But, I mean, you did invite me over so I figured-”

“No it…fine,” Strong grinds out sounding not even a little fine at all. “Strong be down in minute. Need clean up first. Human wait out here.” He then hands the plate of food back to Maccready distractedly, hurrying back into his room and yanking the curtain closed behind.

“Okay….that was weird,” Maccready mutters, heading back out into the open area where Nora and Hancock like to lounge on particularly warm and sunny days. The last time Maccready had joined them he’d fallen asleep and gotten a really nasty sunburn that felt like his skin was trying to boil off. It left him sick for days, and Cait had made fun of him until he threatened to tie her to a post outside and see how fast she cooked.

He’s more or less avoided the area since and is surprised to find it redecorated to include a few of those umbrella-tables he's seen around the Boston. Settling down at it to wait, Maccready begins picking at his food disinterestedly. He’s just about worked up the ability to take a bite when Strong comes stomping out onto the terrace looking slightly more put together.

Throwing the stack of books in his hands down onto the table, Strong drops down onto the bench beside Maccready, which creaks ominously under their combined weights. He takes up his plate, nudging Maccready’s toward him with a pointed look, and digs in. Maccready begins eating at a more sedate pace, only managing a few bites by the time Strong is done licking his plate clean.

When Strong reaches over to pull the books closer to them, Maccready takes the opportunity to shove the still half-full plate off to the side, ignoring the irritated look Strong gives him for it.

“I already ate before coming down here,” Maccready lies weakly. He can tell Strong doesn’t believe him, but chooses instead to crack open the most recent book they have been trying to make headway on rather than call him out on it.

\---------

The dictionary starts proving its worth almost immediately. Two pages in to their most recent literary adventure and he’s already had to define five words for an increasingly frustrated Strong. The going is slow, but he is determined to make it through and Maccready is happy to help.

They get through nearly half of the chapter before Strong shoves the book into Maccready’s hands to continue. It’s further than he’s gotten before, but Maccready can tell by the irritation rolling off him in waves that Strong is deeply upset he couldn’t make it longer.

He slouches down against the counter separating the book room from the rest of the old fill-up station, nudging up against Maccready who pauses his reading to give him a curious look.

Strong meets his eyes, discontent plainly written across his face, before letting out a sigh and shifting away again. Maccready lifts the book to begin reading again, only to be interrupted once more by Strong’s fidgeting. Setting the book down, Maccready turns toward his friend who stares back disgruntled.

“You need something?” Maccready asks. "We could go do something else for awhile and come back to it?"

Strong shrugs, glaring down at the book. Pushing himself to his feet, Maccready stretches with a groan before holding a hand out toward Strong. The hand hovers for long enough between them that Maccready is starting to realize the stupidity of the gesture when Strong suddenly takes hold of it and yanks him back down onto his lap. Maccready lets out a loud yell as he lands, sprawled out across his friend’s legs and torso.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!” He demands, shoving himself up into a better sitting position. The armor pieces of Strong’s kilt are digging painfully into his upper thigh, but when Maccready tries to scoot back he finds himself being stopped by a pair of hands wrapping around his waist. A sense of déjà vu washes through Maccready as he remembers the last time he’d found himself in Strong’s lap like this.

It’s quickly wiped away along with whatever else he’d been about to say when Strong leans forward to bury his face in Maccready’s neck. There’s a brief blinding moment of panic where Maccready is worried Strong is about to rip his throat out, but all the super mutant does is snuffle against him for a bit before heaving a deep sigh. The feeling of hot breath against his neck and ear sends shivers down his back, and Maccready feels like he’s going to vibrate right out of his own skin from nerves.

“Okay, um, what,” Maccready pauses to try and clear his throat as one of Strong’s hands moves from his waist to run across his hip. “Wha…at are you doing?”

“Smell good,” Strong mumbles, burying his face harder against the crook of Maccready’s neck and breathing deeply.

“Are you fuc-fre-oh my God. Seriously?!” Maccready hisses, trying in vain to wiggle his way out. The scraping of teeth against his neck freezes him in place as Strong lets out a soft growl and hauls him up closer against his chest. “You have got to be j-joking. I thought we were friends, man.”

The arms around him loosen abruptly, and Maccready shoves himself out of them quickly. He doesn’t realize he’s still backing up until he hits the wall on the other side of the small space.

“Friends?” Strong wonders, giving him a confused and oddly frustrated look. Maccready wonders what the hell _he_ has to be upset about over this. “Human and Strong friends, yes. What have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with whatever the fuck that was!” Maccready exclaims, gesturing a hand out to wave at the space between them. “Frick. Frack. Yeah, I got nothing. This is freaking me out to much.”

“Human scared.”

“No! Well, yes. Sort of? I don’t-” Cutting himself off with a frustrated noise, Maccready slides down the wall to sit, pulling his knees up against his chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You obviously weren’t going to eat me, or you’d have already done it by now. Sorry. I’m just…”

“Strong not eat human. Too puny. All bone, no meat. Also, Strong not eat friends. _Stupid_.”

Maccready lets out a shaky breath, unable to argue. Strong’s right, he’s never shown an interest in eating any of the people allied with Nora before (except maybe Danse) nor has he ever seriously tried to hurt Maccready since they became friends. Also, Strong has always been super handsy with literally everyone, so he should be used to that by now too. The man has no sense of personal space, as far as Maccready can tell, which makes his intentions really hard to figure out. If anyone else had pulled Maccready into their lap and just gone for him like that he would’ve assumed they wanted….

“Hey..uh, Strong you’re not… um I mean, do you-” he cuts himself off harshly, suddenly feeling completely ridiculous about this whole situation, and tries again. “Sex. Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maccready can’t quite meet Strong’s eyes, staring intently at a point just over his friends shoulder as he waits for an answer. The longer Strong doesn’t say anything, the more Maccready can feel his already fraying nerves growing thinner until he can’t stay still any longer.

“Yeah, you know what? Never mind. You’re right, I’m being dumb. Sorry. I’m just gonna-” he shoves himself to his feet, ducking past Strong and around the counter. His friend doesn't try to stop him, and Maccready curses himself a blue streak all the way back to Sanctuary for not just leaving shit alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh..so yeah I got super sick the last few weeks and am only just now starting to feel back to normal enough to start writing again. I'm not...entirely satisfied with this chapter but have been assured by like three different people that the logic tracks so idk. hope you guys enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hissing a breath between his teeth, Deacon scoots back a slight bit, eyeing him up warily. “Okay….two options here. Either Patches didn’t give you the countersign, or you’ve been replaced and I’m gonna have to kill you. Probably. Maybe.”
> 
> “I’m not a synth,” Maccready sighs, rolling his eyes. “What countersign? Wait. Is this more of your super secret spy shit. Crap. Because I did tell you I wasn’t joining, right?”
> 
> “That sounds exactly like something a synth would say,” Deacon replies.

Avoiding Strong ends up being both easier and more difficult than Maccready figured. Easier because all he has to do is climb up onto the roof of the building allocated to Sanctuary’s truly impressive weapons cache. Strong never looks up. It’s how Deacon keeps getting the drop on him during their weird as hell sparring sessions that look more like a violent version of hide and seek than actual fighting.

Harder, because the moment Maccready spots Strong lumbering into town it takes every ounce of willpower in his tiny body not to drop down and scare the piss out of him.

“I need to stop hanging around Deacon so much,” Maccready sighs, flopping over onto his back to stare up at the sky. The clouds are coming in heavy, but the air is still pretty thin so he doesn’t think it’s going to rain any time soon. Good for him, bad for the crops. He needs to talk to Sturges about building an irrigation system.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye reveals itself to be Deacon, peering at him from over the roof‘s edge as if summoned by his thoughts. They’ve forgone any of their usual wigs for a flowery sunhat Maccready is pretty sure belongs to Nora that does a pretty good job of hiding the ginger stubble growing in across their head.

“Oh good, there you are,” Deacon say, knuckles white against the roof’s edge. “What is it with you and high places, man? Seriously, the more I learn about you the more I’m starting to think you’re just three cats in the world‘s most raggedy-est trench coat.”

“Speak of demons and they appear,” Maccready sighs, sitting up with a groan and stretching to crack his back. “I didn’t even have to use a mirror this time.”

The air bristles around Deacon even as his expression stays placidly bored. “Well, somebody‘s in a pleasant mood today. And it‘s not either one of us, apparently.” They pull themself the rest of the way onto the roof, quickly scooting away from the edge toward where Maccready is sitting.

“Hey, I didn’t make you climb up here. What do you want?”

“Do you have a Geiger Counter?”

Maccready stares. “Uh….not…not on me right now. But I can go get it out of my room?”

Hissing a breath between his teeth, Deacon scoots back a bit, eyeing him up warily. “Okay….two options here. Either Patches didn’t give you the countersign, or you’ve been replaced and I’m gonna have to kill you. Probably. Maybe.”

“I’m not a synth,” Maccready sighs, rolling his eyes. “What countersign? Wait. Is this more of your super secret spy bullshit, er, crap. Because I did tell you I wasn’t joining, right?”

“That sounds exactly like something a synth would say,” Deacon replies. They haven’t made a move for their gun yet, still watching Maccready closely. He keeps his own hands against the roof pointedly, obvious irritation bleeding all over the place. Much like Deacon’s gonna be if they actually try anything. Maccready is not looking forward to explaining that to Nora.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if the Institute was gonna replace anyone, it’d be Piper or Preston. Maybe Danse. Someone with actual connections to things.”

“You mean like the best friend of the General of the Minutemen who part-times as a Brotherhood Knight when she’s not shacking up with clandestine operations?”

“In that case, they’d be going for Hancock,” Maccready retorts, exasperation filling his voice as he pushes himself up to his feet. “But if you want more proof, I’m sure we can find a friggin’ metal detector in the workshop. And then I’ll go get your stupid Geiger Counter. Come on.”

Pulling their lower lip into their mouth unconsciously, Deacon chews on it a moment before seeming to realize what they are doing and letting go of it hastily. They both make it off the roof and down the ladder without incident and are about halfway to Sturges’s workshop before Deacon finally asks what the metal detector is for.

“Cause I mean,” they clarify, hands behind their back in a way that’s probably meant to look casual but Maccready knows means they’re definitely holding a knife. “They’re not actually robots. You do know that, right? Synths are just as human as…well…maybe not you and me, but other people. Human-like people.”

“Human-like people who have metal endoskeletons?” Maccready wonders boredly. The workshop is just as cluttered as usual despite Sturges’s best efforts, and finding the metal detector they’d rigged up to check for iron and rust in Sanctuary’s drinking water takes longer than expected. Especially with the threat of Deacon behind him. “Ah, found it. Here, look.”

He turns to hand the device off to Deacon who is too busy starting incredulously at Maccready to take it.

“Metal endoskeletons?”

“Uh…yeah? Did you guys….seriously not know that? You have like three synths on your damn team!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t run around scanning people with metal detectors like some weirdos I know! How did you even figure that out?”

Maccready shrugs, turning on the machine himself and scanning it over his left arm. It hums lightly, but no more than it would for any other normal human. Letting out a relieved breath he hadn‘t realized he‘d been holding, Maccready turns the machine around to show Deacon. “Synths are harder to kill than most people. I wanted to know why, so I cut one open. Their bones have some sort of metal alloy coating them. Makes them harder to break, I guess. Strong says it tastes nasty. Look, if you want more proof we can go scan Sturges. He’ll be super annoyed though. Fair warning.”

Deacon stares at the readout for a beat before shaking their head, looking faintly ill. Maccready runs the sensor over his watch, just to show that it works, and Deacon flinches back at the sudden beeping. “No, that’s,” they take a deep breath, schooling their expression back into a more casual blankness. “That’s fine. He already doesn’t like me much. No clue why.”

“Probably because you keep stealing his clothes.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if they look better on me.”

“Most things do,” Maccready agrees, unthinkingly. The sudden look of unbridled glee on Deacon’s face causes him to let out a groan.

“Unsettlingly violent commentary followed by accidental flirting? Definitely the real deal Mac n’ Cheese. Tell you what, you go get that Geiger Counter while I slip into something a little less comfortable and we can spend a romantic evening out on the town. Just you, me, and this bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

They pull a rather large unlit Molotov out of who the hell knows where, waving it around with a wide grin. Maccready barks out a laugh, tension easing out of them both like somebody stabbed a hot hair balloon with a machete. He still doesn’t turn his back on Deacon completely as they walk away, though, and knows they’ll be doing the same for much longer.

\---------

They stop by Goodneighbor on their way to the old church the Railroad has been using for their temporary base to pick up some supplies. Ducking down into the Third Rail to order some food, Maccready pretends not to notice Deacon using the borrowed metal detector to scan an amused-looking Magnolia while he catches up with Whitechapel Charlie.

After that, Deacon pop’s into KL-E-0’s to try and charm a deal out of her while Maccready continue on to the next shop over. Inside, Daisy is sitting behind the counter, as per usual, novel in hand. She glances up when the bell rings and sets the book aside with a grin.

“Well, hello there, kid,” she greets, coming around the counter to give him a hug. “See you’re making good on that promise to visit more often. You here alone? Staying a bit or heading out soon?”

“Ah, no. I’m with….” Maccready pauses, trying and failing to remember the alias Deacon used when they were pretending to be just another Goodneighbor drifter. “….someone. And, yeah, we’re just passing through. Sorry. I was actually wanting to see about some supplies?”

“Sure. Sure. Come on in.” She leads him around the counter to the cabinet safe where she keeps her wares. “What can I get’cha, Maccready?”

They’re in the middle of haggling prices (Daisy pretending she isn’t practically letting him rob her, and Maccready pretending not to notice) when Deacon sweeps in carrying what looks like half KL-E-0’s stock of explosives.

“I thought we were scoping out a settlement not fighting a freakin’ deathclaw,” Maccready protests, as Deacon manhandles him around to get at his pack. “I’m not carrying all that crap!”

Out the corner of his eye, he sees Daisy snicker as she watches the scene play out. While Deacon loads him down like the world’s deadliest pack brahmin, she finishes wrapping up the last of the medical supplies and passes them over to be tucked away too.

“Never hurts to be prepared, amigo,“ Deacon says, spinning Maccready back around with a wide grin. “One second you might be fixing up a lighthouse, next you’re being tag-team fucked by a pair of deathclaws. Not an experience I wanna repeat, y’feel me?”

“I _feel_ like the only reason you brought me along is to carry your stuff.”

“It’s about seventy-five percent of the reason, yeah. The other twenty-five is better left unsaid in front of such a beautiful young lady.” Deacon lowers their sunglasses to throw Daisy what they probably figure to be a saucy wink and she rolls her eyes.

“Get the hell out of my shop, O’Malley.”

Deacon salutes her with a grin and heads out, Maccready waving a quick goodbye as he hurries to catch up. As they pass through the gates and out into the ruins of Boston, Deacon begins humming lightly before singing under their breath.

“…I got that wanderlust. Gotta walk the scene. Gotta kick up highway dust. Feel the grass that’s green…dammit now it’s stuck in my head again. Knew I should’a picked a different name…”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s actually a pretty funny story,” Deacon begins, rocking back on his heels with an easy grin. “Well, once you get past the probing, that is. Worst physical I’ve ever had. Somebody should sue that doctor.”
> 
> “Okay. Yeah. I think I’ve heard enough,” Maccready interrupts, backing away with a shudder. “Did you figure out where we’re going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to follow the direction of Deacon's emotional thought process is like being chained to the front cart of the world's deadliest rollercoaster. While blind-folded and set on fire. Somebody get this child some therapy and better coping mechanisms, please.

Getting into the Railroad’s main base of operations is just as annoying the third time Maccready has to do it as it was the first two. Especially since Deacon insists on taking the “scenic route”, doubling and sometimes even tripling back around several times like the paranoid asshole that they are. Not that it isn’t unwarranted, given everything Maccready has come to learn about the Institute in the last several months. Still annoying though.

They’re greeted at the entrance by a woman in a headscarf who makes them recite off a passcode before allowing them to continue on. Maccready wonders what she would do if they guessed wrong. Scream? Try and shoot them? Like that’ll stop anyone who really wants to finish off this already struggling group. Deacon appears to be thinking much the same thing if the stormy look on their face is any indication. As soon as they reach the bullpen, Deacon vanishes like smoke on the wind leaving Maccready to wander around unsurely until Tinker Tom finally flags him down.

“Hey there, Mags,” the scavver greets, spinning around in his chair to give him a wide grin. “You’re a good shot, right? That’s what Dee said. How d’ya feel about shooting birds? Other birds.”

“Uh….” Maccready stares at him for a moment, wondering where the nickname came from before deciding to just let it go. Tom is a strange guy. “I mean, I can. Why?”

“Cause, the _birds_ man. They’re everywhere! But sometimes, they’re _everywhere_. Y’feel me?” Tinker Tom explains, hands waving around to indicate a larger space. “Like, even when they’re not supposed to be. They’re there. Waiting. _Watching_.”

“…that’s sorta just what birds do, Tom.”

“I know! That’s why they’re the perfect spies! Look, just…shoot a couple down and bring ‘em in for me, would'ya? I’ll reimburse you the bullets. Swear.”

“Okay. I guess,” Maccready agrees, still confused. “But, uh, what kind of birds we talking? Just any of them?”

“They’re all suspect as far as I’m concerned, yeah. But I’m talking the _crows_ , Mags. Those little black caws are too smart to be normal.”

Maccready doesn’t have the heart (or the patience) to tell Tom again that that’s just how birds are, especially those ones. Better to humor the man and move on with his life. He agrees to the little side quest and allows Tom to change the subject five more times before Deacon finally reappears in the middle of a rant about aliens to toss their two cents in.

“Y’know, I got kidnapped by aliens once? Ran across one of their ships down in the Capitol and got myself beamed up.”

Tinker Tom gives Deacon a look like Christmas and his birthday are all happening at once. “I knew it! Tell me everything. Right now. No wait.” He spins around shoving a stack of holotapes over to get at an old scrap of paper and pen before turning back to give Deacon as much of his full attention as the man is ever capable of. “Now.”

“It’s actually a pretty funny story,” Deacon begins, rocking back on his heels with an easy grin. “Well, once you get past the probing, that is. Worst physical I’ve ever had. Somebody should sue that doctor.”

“Okay. Yeah. I think I’ve heard enough,” Maccready interrupts, backing away with a shudder. “Did you figure out where we’re going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Deacon acquiesces. “Got the whole dossier from Carrington. I’ll explain on the way. Sorry, Tom. Looks like I’m gonna have to give you the rest of the deets later when Mr. Scaredy-cat over here isn’t around.”

“Aliens are really freaky, okay! Shut up!”

Deacon just laughs, giving Tom a wave goodbye as they head out. On their way through the catacombs, Maccready catches sight of a blackboard, covered in scrawled notes and crude drawings with a small corner dedicated to the distressingly small list of active agents. Near the bottom he sees where they’ve added Nora in as “Patches” and beneath that…

“Magpie? _Seriously?_ Ugh, well, I guess it’s better than Charmer.”

\------

The formerly named Augusta Safehouse is located in an old pre-war hospital that looks pretty well-kept for a raider’s den. At least on the outside. Maccready doesn’t have much time to contemplate the insides as he and Deacon are almost immediately accosted by a woman wielding a pipe wrench with all the reckless abandon of someone tripping hard on chems. She’s quickly followed by the rest of he group as they pour out of the woodwork like radroaches, trying their best to divide and conquer the two of them.

This might’ve worked if Deacon hadn’t seen the piles of bodies tossed carelessly around the main lobby. As it is, the raiders don’t have time to realize what fresh hell they’ve unleashed before Deacon begins cutting through them with a cold focus, leaving nothing but wreckage in their wake. Maccready follows along, shooting out turrets and watching Deacon’s back to the best of his ability. This becomes harder to do, though, when they pop a Stealth Boy mid-combat, vanishing off into the twisting hallways like a ghost hell-bent on granting their own death wish.

All things considered, things aren’t going too bad otherwise. At least not until Maccready manages to stumble down a flight of stairs and smack into a fucking deathclaw, that is.

“You just had to jinx it, didn’t you,” he yells, throwing himself behind a broken down piece of wall to avoid having his guts spilled out across the floor. “Where the hell are those-” he grabs at his pack, digging around for one of the frag mines Deacon had forced on him earlier. The deathclaw rears back for another swipe, and Maccready tosses the bomb at its face, praying that he doesn’t end up bringing down the whole building in his effort to avoid being killed by the damn thing.

It doesn’t have a real affect on the deathclaw other than just pissing it off more, but it _does_ make for a nice distraction as Maccready bolts back up the stairs he had just come down. Letting out a loud roar, the deathclaw charges after him, tearing through the doorway and down the hall. The next bomb he lobs over his shoulder hits it dead center which buys Maccready a little more leeway to scramble up another floor. Rounding the corner he finds Deacon, nearly knocking them both over in his haste to get out of this damn maze of a building.

“Remember how you didn’t want to get fucked by a deathclaw again? Yeah, me either. Come on!”

Despite Deacon’s protests at leaving the deathclaw alive, they manage to make it out of the building and down the street passing several buildings before finally ducking into what looks like a relatively empty one. Collapsing against the wall, Maccready gulps in deep breaths while Deacon sits down hard on the ground, gasping.

“Well,” Deacon finally manages, wig and sunglasses askew in an almost comical fashion that belies their more serious tone. “That sucked.”

\------

All the way back to the church, Deacon’s chatter lacks its usual pep falling flat all over the cracked pavement and wearing them both down the longer it goes on.

“If we’d gotten there sooner, hell even just a few days ago probably,” they finally mutter, over an hour into their trek, staring bleakly into the distance. “Sometimes...I really hate this world.”

Maccready doesn’t know what to say to that and so opts to not say anything at all. They continue on in silence, picking their way through broken streets and scanning the buildings around them for anything that could possibly indicate a threat. By the time they hit the canal, Deacon has picked their cheerfully vacant facade back up, mask of indifference falling firmly into place. It’s like watching a switch flip, and no matter how many times Maccready witnesses it he can’t help the sick feeling that sweeps through him at the sight.

Breezing into the Railroad’s headquarters for the second time that day, Deacon pushes through the sparse crowd to the terminal Carrington has set himself in front of to give their report. From his place by the door, Maccready watches and wonders if he’s going to be able to head back to Sanctuary anytime soon. As much as he hates traveling at night, he hates the idea of sleeping in the Railroad’s creepy underground tomb even more.

His chances grow more bleak the longer Deacon spends chatting with the doctor, and by the time they’re finally done Maccready has resigned himself to the idea of another night without sleep. The apologetic look on Deacon’s face as they come to stand beside him only serves to solidify it, and Maccready heaves a frustrated sigh before following them out.

\------

They spend the afternoon wandering around searching for a man that neither of them will be able to recognize if they find him. Every dead end and searched corpse chips away at Maccready’s patience until he and Deacon are snapping at each other over stupid shit that normally wouldn’t phase either of them. Like Maccready’s humming or Deacon’s tendency to talk to himself. By the time they finally stumble across the remains of the agent Carrington had asked them to find, they’re both so tired of looking at each other that when Deacon suggests just going their separate ways right there Maccready almost takes them up on it.

He drags Deacon down the street to an abandoned apartment complex to set up camp for the night instead. Because there is no way in hell he’s walking all the way back to Sanctuary in the dark, especially alone, no matter how irritated he is right now. They hole themselves up in a relatively intact room on the third floor that’s somehow managed to avoid being completely looted.

Maccready sets about rectifying that quickly, picking through cabinets and drawers for anything that looks remotely useful, or at least interesting. Out in the communal area, Deacon digs through the cushions of an old couch jabbering on about loose change and tv remotes. Their cry of surprise followed by a loud creaking thud a few moments later startles Maccready hard enough to drop the fork he’d been inspecting. Grabbing his gun, he whirls around to search the apartment for threats but sees only Deacon, standing excitedly next to what used to be a couch but now looks like a bed.

“It’s a bed! A couch bed!” Deacon cries, practically bouncing with wonder. “Maccr- er, Mags! Come look at this shit.”

“What the-” Maccready mutters, moving around the kitchen counter to give the transformed furniture a closer look. “How did you make it do that?”

“Magic,” Deacon replies promptly, wiggling their fingers. “Top secret stuff. Not for muggle consumption. Sorry to say, but this time you really have seen too much, my dude. Gonna have to hit you with one of them memory charms now. _Obliviate!_ ” They flick their fingers at Maccready who just rolls his eyes.

“No, seriously. Is there, like, a pulley or something?”

“I miss the days when you used to take my bullshit at face value.”

“Can’t miss something you never had, asshole.”

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Deacon shows Maccready the handle he used to pull the bed out, demonstrating by folding it back up to the protest of centuries old rust before yanking it back out again. Maccready is suitably impressed and wonders about the trouble of dragging the thing back to Sanctuary.

“Yeah…unless you’re packing a moving cart under all those layers, I think we’re gonna have to call this one a bust,” Deacon says, though they seem just as mournful at the loss as Maccready feels. “I’m not sure even _Strong_ could drag this thing that far. Might be able to convince him to give it a try if he thought it would impress you, though. Oh! It could be like a date! Take a nice relaxing stroll across the Commonwealth lugging a musty old couch. Maybe stop off and kill that deathclaw on your way. Make-out on top of its corpse. Totally screams romance, amiright?”

“The hell kind of relationship did you and Cross _have?_ ” Maccready wonders incredulously rather than try and figure out exactly what the hell Deacon means by any of that. 

“…a good one, I like to think. At least for awhile.”

Maccready could slap himself sometimes. “Sorry. I’m-”

“No. No, it’s….” Deacon heaves a long tired sigh, flopping down onto the mattress. A layer of dust bursts up from it and Maccready sneezes several times in quick succession. “Did anyone ever tell you, you sneeze like a goddamn kitten? Because, seriously, Mags. I’m starting to think you really missed out on a golden opportunity by not going with a more cat-themed codename.”

“You’re the one who picked it,” Maccready grouses, allowing for the topic change. Because if there’s one conversation he never wants to have with Deacon again it’s the one where they rehash all the awful shit they’ve both had to deal with in their relatively short lives. Living it was hell enough. “Pretty sure it’s too late to make a change.”

“Nah, I changed my codename six different times a day for two whole months when I first joined up. That’s why we’ve got that 'Third Times the Charm Or Else' clause. So you got one more try, pal. Better make it count. I’d like to put in a suggestion for Meowcready, personally.”

“That’s terrible,“ Maccready decides, climbing onto the couch-bed to sit next to them. “How about, uh….Clawsome?”

“Alley Cat. No, no wait! Cat-man-do.”

“Just Kitten.”

“The Fuzzinator.”

“Catabunga!”

“Whiskers.”

“Catastrophe.”

“Okay. that last one? _So much potential._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See that link down below for works inspired by this one? My wife did that. You guys should totally read it. It's great. And also smut, but yeah. Freaking amazing. <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoving himself to his feet, Strong lumbers forward to wrap his arms around Maccready’s shoulders, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
> 
> “Puny gunner wait,” he demands, pulling Maccready back against his chest. “Not run off again. Leader says we need talk.”
> 
> “You want to talk?” Maccready asks. Clutching his belongings closer, he tries to wiggle away, but this just makes Strong hold on tighter. “Okay fine. What do you want to talk about?”
> 
> “Sex,” Strong replies.

Strung out and utterly exhausted from all the bullshit he’s had to deal with over the last three days without sleep, Maccready stumbles down the path to Sanctuary. Deacon had fucked off somewhere around mid-day to hang with Glory, leaving Maccready to complete the trek back alone. By the time he makes it to the Red Rocket, Maccready’s so dead-set on finding a reasonably horizontal surface to pass out on that he doesn’t notice Strong coming toward him until he is literally crashing into the super mutant’s front. Large hands grab his shoulders to steady him, and Maccready struggles for a moment before giving up and sagging forward to rest against his friend‘s chest.

“Puny gunner need watch out better,” Strong admonishes. “Strong could have been threat and then human be dead.”

“I think at this point, I’d welcome it,” Maccready mumbles, rubbing his face tiredly against Strong’s stomach before forcing himself to push back so he can look up at him. “How are you doing, Strong?”

“Better than human. You need sleep.” Turning Maccready around, Strong starts leading him across the gas station parking lot. Too tired to really put up a fight, Maccready allows himself to be pushed along. They run into a little bit of trouble at the stairs leading to the upper story, but Strong solves this by just picking Maccready up despite his protests about being more than capable of making it up on his own.

It’s not until he finds himself being dropped unceremoniously onto the stacked mattresses that serve as Strong’s bed that Maccready thinks to question just what the hell is happening.

“Human tired,” Strong explains. “Strong tired too. Need sleep.” He moves to climb onto the bed too, and Maccready nearly falls off scrambling away quickly. Grabbing hold of his arm, Strong yanks him back over. “Stop moving. Sleep.”

“I don’t think that mattress can fit both of us, big guy. And I’m not sleeping on the floor when I have a perfectly good bed just down the road.”

“Strong share with leader fine. Puny gunner much smaller. Need less space.”

Maccready stares down at the narrow mattress imagining for a moment Nora and Strong entwined tightly together on it (because that’s the only way they could’ve made this work, Strong was not wrong in his assessment of the boss’s size). He then replaces Nora with himself.

“It’d still be real close…” he finally says, fighting to keep his voice level and probably failing badly.

“Not like it being first time,” Strong points out, and Maccready remembers waking up at the library, curled tightly under Strong‘s arm against his side. “Why you humans all making such big deal of sleeping together?”

Maccready shrugs helplessly, not entirely sure how to explain trust and intimacy issues to someone that doesn’t seem to have any. Strong has always been extremely candid about his own thoughts in such a way that nobody ever has to try and guess how he’s feeling. He lets you know. Loudly. It’s honestly one of the thing Maccready likes most about him.

“Most humans….” he tries, crossing his arms and staring down at them intently in order to avoid Strong’s gaze. “Um, well, that is, for a lot of people its….a sign of closeness? Like, uh, emotionally? Which not everyone is comfortable sharing with someone they don’t trust. It‘s a good way to wind up dead or…um….in an…otherwise bad situation.”

The room is silent, Maccready trying not to fidget while waiting for Strong to say something. Glancing up at his friend, Maccready watches the series of emotions that flit across Strong’s face before he finally replies.

“Leader say same thing. Sort of. She also say it about sex, but Strong tell her only interested in sleeping and she was okay after. ”

“The boss trusts people way too easily,” Maccready sighs, rubbing a hand across his face and stifling a yawn. “Look you’re right though. It really isn’t a big deal. I mean we’ve slept around each other enough to know nobody’s gonna try anything. Just don’t like, I dunno, roll over and crush me to death in my sleep or whatever.”

“Strong make no promises,” his friend says, though he sounds like he’s joking so Maccready lets it slide without much fuss.

That being said, Maccready starts undoing the belts holding his ammo pouches and rifle sling, laying them and his coat down near enough to reach if he needs them. After a moment of consideration, he kicks off his boots and unclips the bullet rounds strapped to his leg as well placing them with the rest. his hat is set down last on top of the small pile while Strong looks on in bemusement.

“Human wear too much.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us can get by with a grass skirt and some rusty metal pieces.”

Huffing with laughter, Strong makes quick work of most of his armor, tossing it haphazardly into the corner before flopping down onto the mattress beside Maccready. “Strong see plenty humans try same. Not as good as super mutant though.”

Stretching out beside his friend, Maccready grins. “I don’t think anyone could pull it off as well you. Super mutant, human, or otherwise.”

\------

Kicking out against the dirt and rock surrounding him, Maccready tries to push himself free but the debris refuses to budge. Everything is too hot and he can feel himself smothered in the weight of it. Another piece of wall caves in, plummeting straight for his head and he throws out the hand not currently trapped to try and stop it. The rock lets out a muffled groan as it is shoved away, rolling harmlessly to the side and taking its crushing mountain of detritus with it.

Maccready gulps in huge breaths of suddenly clear air and realizes that he was dreaming. He’s not trapped. The pile of rocks is Strong, who continues to snore beside him, unshaken by Maccready’s nightmare induced panic. It was just a dream.

Sitting up, he stretches out the arm which had apparently been trapped under his large, heavy friend and winces at the sharp tingling of his blood rushing back into the numb appendage. He flexes the feeling back into it slowly, leaning back against Strong’s side with a relieved sigh. He hadn’t really meant to fall asleep on his friend again, but now that he’s here, Maccready can’t bring himself to get back up and head to his own room and bed.

Behind him , Strong moves again, shifting and stretching as he rolls back over. The super mutant has always been a restless sleeper, and Maccready starts to push himself away to avoid getting crushed once more. A large green arm snaking around his middle halts his retreat effort before it can even really get off the ground, yanking Maccready back against Strong’s front almost painfully as the metal from his gauntlets digs into the human’s stomach.

“What am I? a teddy bear?” Maccready wonders aloud, even as he resigns himself to his fate. Even if he’d been so inclined to move, Strong is near impossible to wake once he’s out. It’s probably one of his biggest weaknesses that Maccready is determined to make sure no one ever gets the chance to exploit.

“I guess if I’m stuck here I may as well do some more reading…”

\---

Nightmares are awful, but the ones that devolve into fucked up sex dreams starring his dead zombie wife are far, far worse. Waking up from either is a relief, Maccready decides, laying on his stomach gasping wetly into the ground underneath him. He’s so focused on pushing back against all the confused feelings crowding over him that it takes several moments to realize that he is not, in fact, laying on the ground at all but, rather, on top of Strong.

Apparently, sometime after Maccready had passed out again, Strong decided to take him along for his last few position changes and is now cuddling the human against his lower torso. Maccready tries to shift out of Strong’s embrace and realizes a moment too late to stifle his moan that there is a fucking tree trunk of a thigh shoved up between his legs, flush against his distressingly hard cock.

“Of course. You have got to be kidding me..,” Maccready mutters, breath coming even more shallow than before as he fights the urge to move against it. “Guess that explains the dream, at least. Fucking hell…”

Tilting his head back, he stares hard at Strong’s chin for a moment before wiggling his arm free to poke it.

“Hey, Strong. Buddy. I gotta fucking piss. Let me up.”

The arms around his back tighten as a low growl rattles through Strong’s chest. Maccready pokes him harder.

“No, I’m serious. You can sleep longer, but I need up right now.”

Another growl as Strong shifts around, pulling his legs up and shoving his thigh against Maccready’s balls even worse than before. He bites down quickly on another moan, digging his nails into Strong’s chest before planting his hands and shoving up against the arms trapping him as hard as possible.

The mutant finally releases him with a grumbled sigh and Maccready scrambles off the bed, nearly tripping over himself in his attempt to get out the door before further embarrassing himself.

\------

Strong is awake when he trails back in later for his stuff, starring around with a grumpy bleary-eyed expression that softens slightly upon seeing Maccready.

“Human okay now? Kept making weird noises while asleep. Sounded hurt.”

Face burning hot, Maccready sets about gathering up his belongings, stammering out something vaguely affirmative. Strong watches him for a moment, but otherwise says nothing. In the glow of the light filtering through the curtains Nora had nailed up to make the room look “cozier”, Maccready can see him clenching and unclenching his hands like he wants to reach out, but is forcing himself not to.

Maccready stands by the bed, holding his things and waiting. He’s not sure what for. Strong to gather himself enough to say what is apparently bothering him? The sun to come up (because Maccready realizes suddenly that it’s still very dark out)? He’s not entirely sure, and Strong doesn’t seem to be doing much better. If he were still tired, Maccready might suggest just trying to get some more sleep, but he’s too wound up now. His body is still warm and jittery from arousal and even being this close to another person (especially one he’s this attracted to) is making him just want to throw himself down and beg to be touched.

“I think I’m gonna head out now,” Maccready says instead, taking a step back quickly. “I’ll, uh, see you later, I guess?”

Strong lifts a hand toward him before frowning and putting it back down. He seems frustrated and, honestly, Maccready can relate. This whole situation has put him so far on edge he’s afraid he might tip over at any moment. He turns to go but barely makes it two steps before Strong manages to finally kick himself into action. Shoving himself to his feet, Strong lumbers forward to wrap his arms around Maccready’s shoulders, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Puny gunner wait,” he demands, pulling Maccready back against his chest. “Not run off again. Leader says we need talk.”

“ _You_ want to talk?” Maccready asks. Clutching his belongings closer, he tries to wiggle away, but this just makes Strong hold on tighter. “Okay fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Sex,” Strong replies. Maccready freezes up, eyes widening. “Strong know what is but not what called. Got confused when human ask. Leader explain.” He pauses, and Maccready can feel Strong bend down to nuzzle against the side of his head. “Human….warm. Smell good. Strong want. Okay?”

“You want,” Maccready repeats, heart thudding so loudly he figures they can probably hear it clear across the settlement. Strong nods and takes a deep breath, releasing it in a huff. The arms around Maccready tighten further before letting go and he turns around to face Strong, having to crane his neck and take a step back to see his face. “Have you…ever had sex with a human before?”

Strong shrugs. “Humans too weak. Strong not care before. Other mutants do it, but….not looking fun. Super mutants shouldn’t play with food. Just eat.” He pauses, lifting a hand to pat Maccready on the head in what is probably supposed to be a reassuring manor. “Not that Strong want eat Maccready. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not….anymore. About that, at least.” Maccready sighs shakily and moves aside to set his stuff back down. Strong watches him go, but otherwise doesn’t follow, waiting for Maccready to come back on his own. Maccready wonders just what he and Nora talked about to warrant this level of patience as he stretches himself up as high as he can to try and grab hold of Strong’s shoulders. It’s a little hard to do standing up though, and Maccready lets out a huff, dropping back down.

“Human too short,” Strong observes, letting out a laugh at Maccready’s answering glare before reaching down to pick him up. Giving a surprised yelp, Maccready wraps his arms around Strong’s neck and clings to him for a moment while the super mutant continues to laugh. “Better?”

“Seriously. Why do you like picking me up so much?”

Strong lifts him higher, nuzzling forward into Maccready’s stomach and sending a swooping feeling through his gut. He doesn’t answer otherwise though, and Maccready leans forward to rest his arms on top of Strong’s head as he tries to regain his bearings. They scatter again only moments later when one of Strong’s hands slides up his thigh to squeeze the area just below his ass like he’d done a few days ago, and Maccready jolts forward pressing himself harder against Strong’s face in a futile effort to get away. There’s not really anywhere for him to go though unless he wants to make Strong drop him on accident.

Shifting his arms around so the one under Maccready’s legs is holding him more firmly, Strong moves his now free hand up to cup his ass, squeezing roughly before continuing onward. Squirming against his friend, Maccready can feel himself growing hard again and shifts restlessly unsure if he’s trying to move away or press in closer. He feels Strong shoving his shirt up from behind and sees him tilt his head to mouth across Maccready’s now bare stomach. Anxiety wages war with arousal as Maccready feels the barest brush of teeth against his skin before Strong is sucking a mark into it. Arousal quickly wins out, though, and Maccready lets out a moan as he arches up against him.

With on last nip, Strong pulls back, inspecting the forming bruise with a curious look before giving a satisfied nod and turning around to drop Maccready onto his bed.

“Human want too, yes?” Strong asks, settling down beside him.

“I mean, sure, why not,” Maccready responds, trying for flippant and missing by a mile if the smug look on Strong’s face is any indication. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be tonight, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow-burn tag still applies. Trust me. These idiots have miles to go yet before they get to where I want them to go.
> 
> Also, next chapter is the extremely awkward first time porn. It's gross and and bloody and I'm completely unapologetic about both of those things. If you wanna skip it, feel free. I will not be offended in the least. Promise. \m/


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently super mutants can have dicks and they are just as big as the rest of them (no matter what jokes Deacon might make to the contrary. Like they have any room to talk).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be gross awkward first time porn. It's a bloody mess (literally) and if you all want to skip it, I do not blame you one bit. Promise. If you choose to read it anyways, then I hope you enjoy! \m/

While Maccready didn’t really expect to make it out of this event unscathed, he’s still irritated that it only takes him less than two minutes to wind up losing his balance and accidentally bloodying his nose on Strong’s chin. Strong gives him a peevish look, but also eyes the blood like he wants a piece of that action, and Maccready quickly ducks his head down lifting a hand to try and staunch the flow.

The grip on his hips tightens, and Strong yanks Maccready more firmly into his lap. Letting out a yelp, Maccready throws his hands back out to catch himself before he ends up hitting his face again and winds up smearing blood across Strong’s chest.

“Ugh…this is going to get everywhere, isn’t it,” he mutters, swiping futilely at the stain even as more drips down to join it.

“Human bleed too easy,” Strong grouses, tangling a hand in Maccready’s hair to yank his head back so he can survey the damage. He leans forward, swiping his tongue across Maccready’s chin and then again across his upper lip. Maccready tries to cringe back from the resulting pain, but Strong just tightens his grip to keep him from getting too far and resumes his previous ministrations, albeit more gently this time.

And isn’t that a weird thought? Strong being gentle. But he is, Maccready realizes as the pain finally begins to recede slowly. He still isn’t sure what exactly he expects sex with a super mutant to be like, but it‘s definitely not what is happening so far. Which is….honestly probably a good thing all things considered. Granted, it wouldn’t have been the first time Maccready had been taken fast and rough, but he knows that even the worst most violent sex he’s ever had with a human wouldn’t hold a candle to Strong if he decides to just cut loose. Hell, they haven’t even gotten all their clothes off yet and already one of them is bleeding. Maybe this isn’t such a great idea after all?  
  
The hand not in his hair slides under his shirt to stroke up his back, chipped nails scraping against his skin lightly and Maccready lets out a gasp, arching his spine with the sensation.

“Oh…okay….that’s…” He takes a deep breath and reaches down to grab the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Clenching the material tightly in his hands he considers blowing his nose on it to try and clear out more of the blood but decides that might just make things worse and tosses it to the side instead. Strong’s hands settle back down against his sides, sliding up to wrap around his ribs before he brings them around to push at Maccready’s chest curiously.

“Human need eat more.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m trying.”

“Try harder. Too boney. Break easy.”

“I don’t think fattening me up is going to solve that problem, big guy.”

Strong huffs out a breath but concedes the point, moving his hands back around to Maccready’s back and leaning down to shove his face into the human’s neck. Large teeth drag against the tendons of his neck causing Maccready to tense up before he forces himself to relax. Strong doesn’t bite down yet, choosing instead to just drag his mouth lightly over the flesh there as his hands trail back down Maccready’s back. Against his better judgment, Maccready finds himself tipping his head to the side to allow Strong better access, biting back a moan at the sensation. Accepting this for the encouragement it is Strong presses his teeth down just hard enough to break the skin, laving his tongue over the blood that wells up in the aftermath and startling a whimper out of Maccready as the human digs his nails into Strong’s sides.

Strong’s hands come to rest on Maccready’s ass, kneading him through pants that needed to be off yesterday. Thankfully, Maccready had already removed most of the harder to pull off parts of his outfit the night before, so he doesn’t have to deal with any of that shit right now. The irritation of pulling off his pants with all it’s buckles and belts is still palpable in both men, though, by the time he is finally down to only his ratty old briefs, and then after that nothing.

“Not much more I can take off buddy, but ah…“

Running his hands down his very large friend’s chest, Maccready comes to a stop at the top of Strong‘s kilt. He tips his head back to give Strong as questioning look, and his friend bats Maccready’s hands away to remove everything himself, starting on his bracers and working his way down from there. A much easier task than Maccready would have thought considering all the rope and metal ties that went into keeping it all together, though it does still take a bit of time.

The blood from his nose is starting to lessen but continues to drip down the lower half of his face unpleasantly. He considers, again, grabbing his undershirt to mop it up, but before he can Strong descends like a big, hulking vulture onto his mouth. Letting out a satisfied grunt, he wraps his arms around Maccready, easily lifting the human up so their faces are level before beginning to lap at his bloody upper lip again like some sort of deranged cat.

The whine Maccready lets out at the sensation is more than a little personally distressing. Even knowing that this is a bit weird and…actually pretty gross even by his own standards, he can‘t help but find the whole thing distractingly hot. The mix between the now dulled pain in his nose and the pleasant feeling of Strong’s heated breaths and rough tongue against his lips is apparently really doing it for him, to the degree that he barely notices the way his hips have begun to buck against Strong’s torso.

“P.. Please,“ Maccready pants, bodily lifting himself up to try and gain more friction against his now painfully aching cock. Strong grunts in approval at the action, lowering him back down onto his lap and pressing their hips together more firmly. Maccready gulps audibly as he finally gets a feel for just what his friend is packing. Pushing against Strong’s chest, he leans back to get a better look and is not disappointed by the sight.

Apparently super mutants can have dicks and they are just as big as the rest of them (no matter what jokes Deacon might make to the contrary. Like they have any room to talk). Fully erect, the thing is longer than Maccready’s entire forearm and thick enough at the base that he is able to wrap both of his hands around it with his fingertips only just barely touching.

“Yeah, there is no way that’s gonna fit,” he mutters, even as his body gives an interested twitch at the idea. Going until he gets used to the burn is one thing but Maccready is pretty sure Strong would tear him in two before they even got started. Even with generous amounts of lube, which he….actually doesn’t have now that he’s thinking about it.

“Fit where?” Strong asks, staring down at Maccready’s hands on his dick with a bemused expression. “Too small…”

“No, you’re just too big. Ughhhh, ok, maybe we can-” he scoots back a bit, bracing a hand against Strong’s thigh as he leans down. but Strong yanks Maccready back up before he can do anything more.

“What human doing? No biting there!”

“I wasn’t! I was just gonna-” Maccready stops, flapping his hands around for a moment. “Well, attempt to suck you off. Sort of. To make this easier?” Strong continues to stare at him in confused disbelief. “Annnd, you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you.”

“Human trying to eat Strong?”

“I mean…that’s a word for it, I think, but- oh wait, shi- no! No! I’m not-”

And it all just goes downhill from there. Maccready is actually kind of amazed they even got this far with only minor injury, especially when Strong decides that grabbing his dick like he plans to rip it off is a good idea. They spend a good ten minutes yelling at each other, pretty effectively killing any sort of mood in the process, before Strong finally decides he’s had enough and just bodily yanks Maccready back onto his lap again.

“This is boring. Much funner the super mutant way.”

“It’s plenty fun the human way when you’re not scared of being ripped in half or crushed to death.”

Wrapping his arms around Maccready, Strong falls backwards onto the bed taking the human with him and nearly knocking the breath out of them both.

“There. Puny human not get crushed now. Better?”

“Well, I guess,” Maccready huffs, sitting up with a groan that turns into a startled gasp at the sudden increased pressure between his legs proves that his dick at least is still very much on board. “God, I feel more like I’m getting beaten up than having sex.”

“Same thing for super mutants.”

“I’m sure it is, big guy, but, maybe we should just quit while we’re….way behind.”

Strong’s grip tightens, nails digging into Maccready’s sides and causing the human to let out a pleased moan as he arches against it, before relaxing slowly. “Strong want….try again.”

Leaning forward, Maccready tries to catch his friend’s eye, but Strong is staring hard at the wall, refusing to let him. Maccready grins and reaches up to rest a hand against Strong’s cheek, thumb swiping lightly over his frowning lips.

“Thought you were bored, buddy.” Strong snaps his teeth at his finger and Maccready draws back with a laugh. “Ok, ok. Let’s see what we can do about that then, huh?”

\------

It goes much better after that. Though Maccready still ends up way more bruised and bloody than he’s strictly comfortable with. And that’s even with Strong very obviously reigning himself in. He shudders to think what this would have been like if Strong were a less patient person.

(It’s not an altogether unpleasant thought, though, and that actually scares Maccready a little. Because this is more than getting off on a little pain, Strong could seriously injure or, hell, even straight up kill him without really trying. Not that he would, Maccready knows (hopes), but the concern is still there in the back of his mind and he should not be finding it so hot. That’s a little too fucked up, even for him.)

Maccready considers it a damn miracle that they manage to get their shit together enough to achieve any sort of mutual orgasm. Also that he only falls off Strong’s lap once during it, after which his friend keeps a better grip on his sides that he is going to be feeling for weeks. But with a little bit of reckless ingenuity (Maccready is pretty sure gun oil is not meant to be used as a sexual lubricant no matter what Hancock says) and a whole lot of grinding they get there eventually.

It’s not the best sex Maccready has ever had, but somehow still manages to be pretty far up there just because of how much fun it actually ended up being. His only real lament is that it’s probably never going to happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I actually wrote this chapter before anything else because originally this fic was....just gonna be this chapter. Ha.....but then I got hit with ideas and plot and next thing I know it's gone and snowballed into this 12 chapters and counting slow-burn mess. I have no control of my life.
> 
> Oh, also there's [art](http://stitcheshatesstairs.tumblr.com/post/169556684524/i-feel-like-the-hearts-in-the-background-add-a).


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you look like someone who had a good time last night,” the ghoul says, flicking his fingers across the gauze covered bite wound gently. “Who won the fight? Please tell me the other guy looks worse. I know you wanna say it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (3/23/18): Changed the end of the chapter because it was bugging me. Not much, just the last couple of lines.

Strong is gone by the time Maccready manages to roll himself out of bed the next morning. In his place rests a half-cooked slab of something charred and oozing that Maccready takes a tentative bite of before deciding its not the worst thing he’s ever had in his mouth and chowing down. Dogmeat shows up about halfway through to beg for scraps until he finally passes some over to the pooch to get him to not jump all over Maccready’s bruised and battered body.

His shoulder burns where Strong bit into him, as do the other various marks across the rest of his body, and Maccready realizes that he should probably clean them out before anything gets infected. Abandoning the rest of his breakfast to Dogmeat, he pushes himself up to stumble around the room looking for a first-aid kit.

“Ah, hah,” he grunts, unearthing one from underneath a pile of junk he’s pretty sure is actually Nora’s and moving back over to the bed. Disinfecting and bandaging the bite is the work of only a few minutes, but the scratches down his sides and legs require a little more finesse and Maccready worries he may actually have to ask for help with the ones he can feel across his back.

After slowly pulling most of his clothes back on, he decides to head back to his own room to try and get cleaned up better. The material of his pants and shirt drags across the various scratches and bites all over his body, but Maccready grits his teeth and continues on albeit more slowly than usual. Dogmeat trots along ahead, meat held loftily to avoid dragging it through the dirt. They manage to make it down the path and across the bridge before running into anyone. Thankfully, its just Hancock, who eyes Maccready up and done before throwing an arm over his shoulder with a grin.

“So you look like someone who had a good time last night,” the ghoul says, flicking his fingers across the gauze covered bite wound gently. “Who won the fight? Please tell me the other guy looks worse. I _know_ you wanna say it.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,“ Maccready replies, grabbing Hancock’s wrist and lifting his hand away. He doesn’t try to remove him otherwise, enjoying the camaraderie despite the unintentional pain that comes with it. Already, he can feel a few of the marks on his back cracking open as they continue across the bridge like this and tries not to think about how much of a bloody mess he must look right now.

“Well, it looks pretty bad from where I’m standing, kid,” Hancock states, as if reading his very thoughts. “Do I need to be having another talk with someone?”

“What? No. Really, it’s…” Maccready pauses, turning slightly to give Hancock a curious look. “Wait, another talk?”

Hancock gives him an easy, if obviously fake, grin, waving him off with his free hand. “Don’t worry about it. Me and Sunshine gotcha covered. Speaking of, you should probably get that looked after before she sees you.” He gestures up towards his own face to indicate the bruising on Maccready‘s. ‘Because you kinda look like a battered wife, and you know she don’t take nicely to that sorta thing.”

“It was an accident.” Hancock raises an eyebrow and Maccready tries to roll his eyes but stops with a wince. “No seriously, I tripped. Stop looking at me like that.”

“You gonna be telling me the doorknob did it next, kid? Cause you’re gonna wanna work on those excuses before Sunshine gets a hold of ya.”

“Ughhhh, look just-” Maccready closes his eyes and shakes his head. “If you’re gonna stand around bugging me about this, then you can at least help me get cleaned up. Come on.”

Hancock’s eyes widen as Maccready drags him down the street and into his house. Dogmeat is already waiting on the bed inside his room, voraciously picking over the last of the meat and gnawing on the bones like he’s never eaten a full meal in his life, and Hancock’s face softens as he reaches out to pet his head.

“Hey there, Dogmeat,” he murmurs, grinning widely as Dogmeat hops up to lick his face. “Oh woah. It’s good to see you again too! I know, two hours is like ages in dog years. Practically forever really.”

Maccready sits down, watching the exchange quietly before Hancock seems to remember that he is still there. Pushing Dogmeat away from his face gently, he gives Maccready a curious look.

“Well, now that you’ve got me trapped,” Hancock says, gesturing toward the dog happily sprawled across his lap, “-let’s see the damage.”

“It’s just the cuts on my back. I can’t reach them,“ Maccready explains, turning away with pointedly little fanfare and pulling his shirt off as gently as possible. It still rips away the scabs it had been sticking to and he clenches his teeth against the burn of it. Behind him, he hears Hancock give a low whistle before taking the offered first aid kit from Maccready’s hands and carefully cleaning out the wounds.

Seeming to realize that Hancock is too busy for pets, Dogmeat squirms out from between them and into Maccready’s lap instead, letting out a happy huff when he begins scratching behind the dog’s ears absentmindedly. Hancock starts in on some of the Goodneighbor gossip he’s missed out on lately, and Maccready lets the conversation distract him from the lingering pain.

He knows when Hancock actually finishes his task, but allows him to continue pretending at it, running long, bony fingers up and down Maccready’s back and tracing soothing patterns into the abused skin. It’s a nice feeling, and for a moment he imagines different hands on him. Smaller, but no less calloused for her work as a medic. Lucy had always been an especially tactile person, constantly nudging and poking and hauling people around like she was going to lose her mind if she wasn’t in constant contact with another being.

It had taken forever for Maccready to get used to, but now that it’s gone he misses it terribly. Constantly, he finds himself wishing he had the ability to reach out for others so easily. To just ask for what he wants instead of throwing himself into people’s space and hoping they’ll get the idea.

It’s been nice to find people willing to be around him without having to be tumbled into bed first. Hell, it’s been nice having people in his bed who he’s not worried are going to murder him in his sleep despite their reputations to the contrary. True companionship is a rare commodity in the Wasteland that Maccready knows he took for granted as a kid back in Lamplight, and allowing people close enough to even begin gaining his trust has been an uphill battle since he left.

Hancock’s hands trail down his back one last time before pulling away, and Maccready puts his shirt back on to the sounds of joking protest.

“Aww, come on, I was enjoying the view,” Hancock teases, the corner of his mouth twitching even as he continues to eye Maccready worriedly. “Seriously though, you should probably forgo anything tighter until these heal. I know you mercs love to live dangerously and all that, but maybe don’t try and fist fight anymore yao guai or whatever story you‘re going to give Nora when she asks about this? Cause, y‘know she‘s gonna.”

“Well, there goes my weekend,” Maccready sighs, pushing Dogmeat off his lap gently so he can stagger back to his feet. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime, Maccready. Just…try not to need it too often, yeah?”

\---------

True to Hancock’s predictions, the first thing Nora does upon seeing him is drop literally everything she is holding to rush forward and grab his face.

“<It’s….not as bad as it looks?>“ Maccready tries, letting out an annoyed huff when she ignores him completely to probe gently at his nose. “<No seriously, it looks way worse than it feels.>“

“<What happened?>“ She demands, pulling away only long enough to ask before bodily tugging him into her office.

“<It’s fine,>“ he says, allowing himself to be manhandled into one of her many chairs so she can kneel down in front of him for a better look. “<Really. I just tripped and whacked my nose on Strong’s chin. Not a big deal.>“

Nora gives him a funny look. “<How’d you manage that? He’s like three feet taller than you.>“

“<….we were sitting down at the time. The point-!>“ he quickly continues before she can get a word in, “<-is that you worry too much. Seriously. I haven’t been fussed over this much since that time I almost got crushed to death as a kid.>“

Rather than calming her down like he’d hoped, this comment seems to just make Nora more agitated. She spends a good several minutes ranting at him about how he needs to take better care of himself until Maccready finally has enough and brings up what a complete hypocrite she’s being. The ensuing argument lasts nearly a half hour before Nora proves his point by asking his opinion on who she should take with her on her return trip to the Glowing Sea (because she didn’t learn her lesson the first time apparently).

The last time, she’d taken Nick, but he is unavailable now for reasons nobody is willing to discuss around Maccready, and Nora doesn’t have time to wait for him to get better.

“<I’d say Strong is probably your best bet,>“ Maccready tells her, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the Red Rocket station. “<Hancock talks a big game, but unless he wants to spend the rest of his mayor-ship as a beacon for ferals, or risk becoming one himself, he can’t afford to soak up that much radiation. Super mutants, on the other hand, are completely immune to the stuff as far as anyone can tell.>“

“<Yeah, that’s what Virgil said too. I’m not sure that he and Strong would get along though,>“ Nora laments, chewing on her lip fretfully. “<But you’re right. He’s probably my best bet. I’ll talk to him about it later.>“ She pauses, eyes narrowing as she glances over his face again before landing on the bite mark at his neck. “<…among other things.>“

Maccready feels his shoulders go tense as he wills himself not to blush under her suddenly scrutinizing stare. “<This->” he gestures towards his face, “<-really was an accident, boss. We do worse to each other sparring.>”

“<Be that as it may, I still feel like I should be giving him some sort of shovel talk.>“

“<A what?>“

“<You know, the old “hurt my friend and I hurt you” talk? The one dad’s give their daughter’s boyfriends before he lets them go out?>“

“<Sounds like a waste of time, to me. And also like something you should definitely not do unless you want me to have the same talk with you about Deacon.>“

Nora flusters, waving her hands around rapidly. “<There’s nothing to talk about! Nothing at all! I’m not- Deacon isn’t- We->“

Her panic grows worse until Maccready finally takes pity on her enough to change the subject to the mountain of paperwork she’s got growing on her desk. She all but sags in relief when he begrudgingly offers to help her with it. Anything to change the subject, even if he can't begin to fathom how one person could end up in charge of so many settlements. Seems like too much work to lay on one person, and the amount of back-log on her desk just goes to prove it. It takes them the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon to make any sort of headway, and by that time Nora has sprawled so far over into her chair she's in very real danger of falling out of it. So, Maccready feels now is probably a good time to drag her up out of it to do something else for awhile. 

"<We should probably eat,>" Nora suggests, after stretching out her back with a satisfied groan. "<I feel like I could literally eat an entire brahmnin by myself. No joke.>"

"<Maybe stick to a few radchickens instead, boss.>"

She laughs but pointedly makes no promises. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Commonwealth Delight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588107) by [Upbeatbox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upbeatbox/pseuds/Upbeatbox)




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